After All These Years
by Weatherbug02
Summary: Sequel to Banished. It's been eight years since Corinne was banished from Paris by order of her king. Now, all she must do is beg for forgiveness for a crime she didn't commit and she will be welcome back. But there is something greater hiding in the crime-ridden streets of Paris. Something responsible for her banishment. COMPLETE.
1. Letters From Romeo

**(A/N: This is the sequel to _Banished_ , my drabble fic, so I would suggest reading that before this. If not, that's totally cool. I probably cover enough about it to let you know what they're talking about.)**

* * *

The sun rises slowly as I stare out the window. The country is always so beautiful in the morning with the rolling hills that reflects the newly-risen sunlight off the fields and grass. It's one thing I have always missed about Gascony no matter where I went and what I saw.

What did I see? Miles and miles of rolling land. Hundreds and hundreds of people. Paris; from the ground and the sky. And as much as I love Gascony, it's not my home. It hasn't been for over twelve years. Not since I had arrived in Paris so many years ago.

I sigh quietly, and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don't have to look to know who it is. "You should go back," my mother whispers in my ear.

I can feel the pressure build behind my eyes. "But it's been so long."

"I know. But you made a promise to him."

I can't help it anymore. I burst into tears and lean into my mother, who wraps her arms around me.

I did make a promise to him. But I made it so long ago. And I want so badly to keep it, but I'm not sure I can. Not after all that has happened. Not after what I was accused of.

Tomorrow will be the eighth anniversary of my banishment from Paris.

" _Corinne D'Artagnan, I hereby banish you from Paris. If you ever try to challenge my executive order, I will have no choice but to sentence you to a warranted death."_

I'm not sure I can face him after so long, after not being able to clear my name. It will just hurt so, so badly. And how do I know he still even wants to see me? It's been twelve years. He's probably forgotten about me. He's probably married or at least engaged by now.

My mother gently rubs the back of my head. "Corinne, you made a promise to Louis eight years ago. You said you would come back to him."

" _I'll come back, Louis. I promise."_

I suck in a breath. "I know, but… I haven't seen him, haven't heard his voice. What if he hates me?"

My mother furrows her eyebrows. "Have you read any of his letters?"

No. I hadn't. I couldn't bring myself to.

I shake my head.

"You should, Corinne. You should read them on your way to Paris."

"But Mama—"

She cuts me off. "I know you want this, but you're too afraid to go and get it." She pauses. "You've always been so strong-willed and stubborn. Don't stop now when you need those traits the most. Go find and reclaim your true love, my darling."

I look up into her eyes and see the same spark I'm sure she saw in me back when I was seventeen. And then I know I have to do this. I have to go back.

* * *

I left that morning with a very happy yet tearful goodbye. I will never know how to repay my mother for what she's done for me. For not only supporting my dreams, but for taking in her disgraced and emotionally unstable daughter.

 _My stomach is bruised and purple. I lean over the wash basin and rinse my face, and I look into the mirror again._

 _I start to cry._

 _And I can't stop._

The weather is fair as I ride at a slow trot with my horse Darcy. It's a different horse, but somehow he knows the way to Paris just like Alexander did twelve years ago. I haven't packed anything besides an extra set of clothes and Louis's unopened letters that have been sitting in the bottom of my clothing chest for all these years. I grab my satchel and take out the first one dated 10 March, 1683. Two days after I was banished. It read:

 _Corinne,_

 _You left only two days ago, but it feels as if it's been a decade already. I miss you so much, and I have no idea how I'll be able to last these next eight years._

 _Viveca, Aramina, and Renée are being questioned in their involvement of this plot of my assassination, but I can assure you that I will not allow them to be punished for false accusations. I already made one mistake not trusting you. I will not do it again._

 _I have no idea who could be plotting against me. And I wish I could find out because that would mean your innocence in everything, but there is nothing._

 _Again, I must say how sorry I am for all of this happening to you. It causes me unspeakable pain to know you're hurting. And I know sorry cannot and will not fix it, but it is the best I can do._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

 _With all my love,_

 _Louis_

He's right. Sorry wouldn't have fixed it. Sorry doesn't fix anything.

* * *

It's noon before I'm even close to halfway through the letters. There are dozens and dozens of them sent throughout these past years. I never opened one. I don't know if it was the pain, or the grief, or the anger, but I just couldn't.

 _19 June, 1685_

 _My dearest,_

 _I would ask how you are, but I know you will not answer, so I will get straight to the point of this letter._

 _It is official. Tréville has retired. He is being replaced by former musketeer Alexandre Baudin. I don't necessarily like him, but I am sure I will as I get to know him. He is not much older than myself; around six-and-twenty, if I had to guess._

 _Tréville is doing fine, but I can tell he's missing his job already. He is leaving tomorrow for the south to visit his daughter and grandchildren, so I do hope that is distraction enough for him._

 _There is not much else to say since it's only been two weeks since I wrote my last letter to you. And, yes, I know it's been over two years that you have not replied to any of my letters. I can only hope you read them._

 _With much love,_

 _Louis_

* * *

It took months after arriving in Gascony to even think about getting out of bed. I had a broken rib from being beaten and a pneumonia from traveling in the rain, but that wasn't the only reason I was bed-ridden. My mother said I was suffering from a broken heart. And she only recently told me that she wasn't sure if I was going to survive those first few months. She had said I'd given up the will to live.

It was so hard. It was so hard to function again in the tiny little house after living in luxury for so long. It was hard to think about the life I had given up. It was hard to breathe without getting choked up by the tears I'd been holding in. It was hard to move without having that ache in my heart. It was hard to watch the sky without remembering I had been up there, flying like I had wings of my own. Everything was just so hard.

 _25 December, 1685_

 _Darling,_

 _It is Christmas morning, and I am about to go to church, but I wanted to write you to tell you how much I love and miss you. It is so hard to be alone, where you really can't talk to anyone about personal things. This is the worst feeling in the world. This sense of solitude and misery. I just wish I could see you again at least once anytime soon. It's still so long until you can come back. I regret everything that happened that day. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot. Sometimes I lay awake at night, thinking about why I hadn't known better than to think you my attempted killer._

 _I must go now._

 _With love,_

 _Louis_

* * *

Afternoon turns into early evening as I sit atop Darcy, reading letters as he stays at his steady walk. There are so many letters. Some are short, some long. Some written in black pen, some in blue. Some are aged with some words beyond recognition, some as crisp as if they were sent merely hours ago. But no matter how many have been written or how long it's been, there is always his neat, elegant cursive, perfectly lining the paper.

Some days I would hold these letters and stare at them for hours on end, hoping, praying that my banishment was all a dream, that I would wake up at any second in the darkness of my apartment in Paris.

 _8 March, 1686_

 _Dear Corinne,_

 _I am sure I don't have to remind you of what today is._

 _Five years left._

 _Time is going so quickly yet so slow at the same time. This is getting harder and harder every day. I miss you so much. Not a day passes where I don't think about you, think about what I could have done to stop this from happening. I could have done so much, Corinne. If only I had acted. If only I had thought straight and used my head. But I don't think anyone was able to use their head that day. If they were, someone, just someone at least, would have come to their senses and stopped it before it started. My head was so clouded with anger and deceit that I couldn't think clearly. I was hardly able to fathom that you would be able to do this to me. It didn't make any sense then._

 _It doesn't make any sense now._

 _You have no motive to try to hurt me. You've always been honorable, albeit a little hot-tempered, but there have always been plenty of musketeers with that trait. You have no motive, not to mention you don't have a killer's heart._

 _My heart yearns to see you again. I am still wishing, hoping, praying that you will come back on this day in five years._

 _With all my love,_

 _Louis_

* * *

With every passing moment I grow more and more nervous. What will I do once I'm in Paris? Do I go straight to the palace? Am I able to see anyone beforehand? Can I freshen up somewhere? All these questions slur together inside my head.

This is so scary. I usually hate being afraid, but this time I have a right to be. They could kill me if they wanted to. They could throw me in the dungeon to rot with Philippe. They could do anything to me.

Then my mind wanders off to Louis. How has he changed? He has to be around thirty by now. Is he the same as when I left? Probably not. I know I look different from how I looked when I was one-and-twenty. Will he still want me there? I don't know. I just don't know.

 _22 June, 1687_

 _My beloved,_

 _I miss you. That is the only news to tell. Not that it is news, exactly. You already know this about me._

 _I really do wish you'd answer these letters. I miss hearing your voice, but I know that it's not possible. A letter is our next best thing, Corinne._

 _Please. If you are reading this, I need to know you're doing well. If not, I will send you money, I will send you anything so long you ask._

 _I am still counting down the days of which you will come back. It is so hard without you here. People think I'm sick most of the time. They tell me my eyes are lifeless and my skin pale. It's painful to be without you, but there's only less than four years left until you can come back. That has been my mantra lately._

 _Four years left._

 _Four years left._

 _Four years left._

 _Please write to me._

 _Louis_

I never did write to him.

* * *

I sit on the ground next to Darcy and watch as the sun sets. One more rising of the sun and that's it. I can go back. And to think, less than a day ago I wasn't going to come. This is all so nerve-wracking.

I can't help but think of all the "what-ifs." What if he doesn't like me? What if he changes his mind? What if he sends me away? What if he hates me? What if I'm too different? What if he doesn't love me anymore? That's my big question.

When I was first banished, it was so hard to imagine a life without him. I woke up some mornings not knowing where I was until the memories of my last days in Paris came flooding back. The memories of him holding me as I cried. The memories of me begging for him to stop it, even though I knew he couldn't. Sometimes I wished that I never became a Musketeer, never met Louis. But then I remembered all of the amazing times we had together for so long, and I decided that I would rather have the heartbreak of remembering than the terrible longing that I couldn't.

I turn to my satchel again and pick up the sixty-seventh letter.

 _31 December, 1688_

 _My dear Corinne,_

 _It is New Year's Eve. Everyone is so happy and celebrating the holiday, but I just feel so anxious without you here. I usually keep to my room on holidays now. I doubt anyone misses me, anyway. I hardly ever smile and when I do is usually out of politeness._

 _Some of my family is here today. My cousin Emilie and her husband and their children Isabelle, Georgiana, and Rowan. They are a great distraction, and I feel rather guilty for leaving them alone, but I had to find solitude to write you this letter._

 _God, these years cannot go quickly enough. Every day I feel so depressed and lonely and broken. I don't know how I lived before I met you._

 _Captain Baudin has still not gotten on my good side yet. Maybe it's because I've had only one captain in my life, but I'm not that fond of him and neither are many of the musketeers, but this is who Tréville picked to be his replacement, and I will honor his wishes as best I can._

 _Viveca wanted me to tell you that she got married to a very kind and respectable man named John Abbott, a Brit lawyer from London._

 _Renée just had her second child with Will a few weeks ago; a boy this time around. They named him Jonathan after Will's father._

 _Aramina scheduled her wedding with Elijah for this April._

 _They all wish you could've been there. I feel as if they blame me for you being banished. Not that I blame them. It is my fault, and I'll never forgive myself._

 _Happy New Year._

 _With love,_

 _Louis_

This shocked me. If I had read these letters, I would've known that everyone had gotten married, that Renée had children. What did I expect, though? That everyone would put their life on hold because I had gotten banished? Louis, maybe, but not them.

* * *

The pain is so much to bear. Every punch, every word spat at me is torture. Everything is a blur as I run. And run. And run. And run. The crowd is so thick. People grab me and hit me and push me. I can't think clearly. All I know is that I have to get out. I push the crowd aside and run until I can't breathe anymore.

I hide in an ally to try and catch my breath.

It's like there's an angry mob trying to destroy me. Do they even remember that I kept them safe every day for four years?

I stand and start walking into the dark ally. I turn a corner and run straight into someone. I fall, but he doesn't. I stare up at him and gasp. It's Louis, his eyes as dark as coal. He raises his hand and—

* * *

I shoot up from my sleep. My chest heaves heavily as I bury my face my hands and let the tears fall slowly and then all at once.

It was a dream. It was just a dream.

I stay in that position for a while; face in my hands, knees up against my chest. I try calming myself several times before I'm actually able to do it. This isn't even the worst dream I've had and it still makes me react like this.

I stand and take deep breaths. It has to be before four in the morning, but I mount Darcy and let him walk along the path. I use the light of the moon to read the seventy-eighth letter from Louis.

 _16 April, 1669_

 _Corinne,_

 _Aramina and Elijah were married today. They invited me out of courtesy, I'm sure, and I went out of that same reason. It was a nice ceremony full of flowers and singing, just like I knew Aramina would have._

 _Spring came late this year, and the snow has just barely melted off the ground. I'm not sure what it's like in Gascony, but it can't be much more different than here._

 _My advisors are trying to get me engaged to a duchess, but I'm not budging. They don't understand why I am not over you yet. I will never be over you. You are my first love, and I dearly hope that you will be my last._

 _You puzzle me as to why you don't write to me. Everyday I wait for a letter from you, but it never comes. It should be expected by now after six years, but I just can't help it. The possibility of hearing from you seems so wonderful that I just can't help it._

 _I wish I could write more, but my next letter should come soon._

 _With much love,_

 _Louis_

* * *

I can tell the sun is going to rise soon. The moon is going lower and lower to the ground until the light is barely visible against Louis's letters. I take a deep breath as I take the next one. The last one.

 _8 September, 1670_

 _Corinne,_

 _I'm not sure I can do this anymore; me writing you letters that I'm not even sure you read. You have no idea how hard this is. I feel like you don't even care anymore. I'm lowering my expectations of you coming this March. I've about given up hope on you and everything._

 _People look at me and see a heartsick fool. People think I'm weak. Hell, I am weak. I am weak without you, without your encouragement, and without your outlook on everything._

 _I've given up on my balloon. I haven't aired it up since you were banished. It just doesn't feel right without you in it. That creation is yours too._

 _I miss you, Corinne. I miss your face. I miss the way you look at me with that beautiful sparkle in your eyes. I miss your determination and stubbornness and the way you'll stand up to me with no second thought whatsoever._

 _I want you back so much._

 _Please. Answer this letter. It will be the last one I write to you unless you tell me because you so obviously seem unhappy about getting them._

 _The last time I told you this was on my balcony over seven years ago, and it didn't seem right to put it in writing, but this may be the final time I'll ever get to say it to you._

 _I love you._

 _I love you so much._

 _Louis_

I can't help it anymore. I burst into tears and tighten my grip around Darcy's reigns. So this is why Louis had stopped writing to me six months ago. Why was I so stupid as to not read any of these letters?

My horse halts abruptly. I look up from the letter, my eyes still filled with tears, and see it. There, sitting in front of the rising sun, is Paris.

* * *

 **(A/N: Hey, guys! Long time no see. :D So I was actually going to write the Pony Tale sequel first, but I had little to no inspiration, so I decided to do this one! I just came up with a legit idea two days ago and started writing nonstop. I gotta admit, I'm going to try to make this story ah-mah-zing, because I have a REALLY interesting plot planned. So hang on tight!**

 **I'm going to try to update this story once a week on Tuesday afternoons/evenings my time, but I make no promises!**

 **Thanks so much for reading and review if you have the chance!**

 **Later, peeps!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	2. Forget Me

My knuckles turn white from holding onto Darcy's reins so tightly. I just sit silently as I watch the sun rise over Paris, my eyes still glistening with tears. It's the exact same city I came to twelve years ago, but somehow it feels so different; less warm and inviting. Perhaps it's the circumstances I am coming in, maybe Paris just hates me.

The cool morning air nips at my ears as I force myself to move forward, and Darcy moves at a walk into the city. I keep my head down, even though there's no one out yet, because I can't stop feeling like I'm some criminal staking out forbidden streets. I guess that's kind of what I am.

For some reason I remember these streets like the back of my hand; every turn, every dip, every shop we liked to go to. Everything is so vivid that if I hadn't known better, I might've thought I was in this city yesterday.

My palms sweat as I travel through Paris. Some shop keepers open their doors for the day and the merchants set up their carts in the marketplace. I can smell the scent of fresh bread baking in ovens and flowers being set out to bloom. This is what I missed about Paris.

I turn a corner and almost immediately stop. I dismount from Darcy and walk straight up to him.

"Serge?" I ask.

Sitting on a stool in front of the stable is the boy I met so long ago. He looks up at me and faintly smiles. "That's what they call me. Do I know you?"

I am about to answer but then think better of it. "Uh, no. I just… Will you take care of my horse?"

He stands, obviously skeptical of my answer but makes no other comment about it. He takes Darcy's reins in his hand. "Sure. I suppose there's room for one more."

I smile. "Thank you." He nods then turns away, taking my horse inside the stable.

When Serge is gone I start walking, not believing how much he's changed all these years. When I met him he was barely sixteen, and now he's grown into a man. This makes me think of how much Louis has changed. I shake the thought away from my mind. I'll wait until I see him to make that judgement.

More and more people start pouring into the street as the morning ticks on. As I pass multiple shops the smells hit me again, and I remember that I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. I make a beeline for one of my favorite breakfast places that I used to eat at all the time before I was banished.

Inside, the wonderful sense of food overwhelms me, and, once asked what I want to eat, I practically order the whole menu. I give the money to the waitress, and she leaves with a very surprised look on her face.

I savor the food. Each bite tastes like I've been locked in Hell for eight years and am finally getting a taste of Heaven, which is actually quite true. These twenty glorious minutes end the moment three men in black and white clothing that look like musketeer uniforms walk in. Though each of them wear a smile on their faces, all I see is me in shackles at the butchering block. It'd be too suspicious to walk out as soon as they walked in, so I take as many slow and cautious bites of my food as I can.

They order and sit down at the table next to mine. I keep my eyes on my fork and listen as they talk loudly to one another.

"So, James," the blond one says as he nudges his friend to his right, "has Baudin decided whether or not to promote you yet?"

A man around five-and-twenty with raven hair and eyes the color of ice glances at him. "He said I am needed in my position at the moment, but he'll promote me when a good fit comes around."

The blond laughs. "Eh, keep telling yourself that, Jamie." He drapes an arm over his shoulder.

James shows the slightest hint of annoyance before turning back to his food. "Oscar, I don't need any of your input." He removes Oscar's arm from his shoulders.

I let out a sigh. They're really all here for pleasure and not tracking me down to take me to the guillotine. I start to relax a little, sipping my orange juice quietly.

I notice then a dark brown-headed musketeer sipping coffee next to James. He speaks in a low voice to his colleagues. "Any word on the Red Cobras?"

Oscar glances around to make sure nobody's listening, and I quickly avert my gaze. "No. Not since yesterday."

Red Cobras? What are Red Cobr—

"Are you ready, miss?" my waitress asks suddenly.

I gasp in surprise but nod. "Yes, thank you." I stand quickly and rush to the door before any of the men notice me. I'm almost outside before I feel a hand gently grasp my forearm. I'm about to jerk it away before I see what I originally thought was that the ice-blue eyes are actually white.

"You forgot your satchel, ma'am," James says, holding out my bag.

I have a lump in my throat and am not able to answer for a whole agonizing five seconds, but I manage to squeak out, "Thank you," before I rush out the door and onto the crowded streets. I dare to look back, and I see him still standing by the door, watching my every move.

The lump in my throat is still there once I settle myself on a bench in the marketplace. What just happened? Oh, God, what just happened? Nothing happened. Right? He can't know who I am. He probably wasn't even in the Musketeers when I was banished. He's so much younger than me. It's not like I'm the most wanted person in Paris anyway. It's fine. Everything is fine.

I start feeling claustrophobic being surrounded by all these people, so I quickly move through the crowd and down a much less busy street. I take deep breaths, trying to settle my nerves before I completely break down. It's hard to manage, but I eventually am able to get my heartrate down to a normal level.

It's crazy the kind of things that spook me anymore. I used to be the stubborn, hard-headed girl that wouldn't give up on anything. These past eight years have really changed me, and I can most assuredly tell you that it's not for the better.

I round another corner. After a few more minutes of walking, I realize I'm lost. This is an unfamiliar section of Paris, and, by the looks of it, it's definitely not the nicest. The houses apartments and houses look dirty and damaged, and the streets are filled with litter. Probably a bad area to be in.

I hear a scream from a block away, confirming my suspicions about this neighborhood, and, by natural instinct, I run over to see what's happening. A girl probably not yet sixteen is kicking and screaming while a burly man is holding onto her, pressing a knife to her throat, saying, "Where is it, little girl? Where is it?"

"You won't kill me. You can't because without me you'll never find it."

The man presses the knife into her shoulder, making at thin line of blood. "Maybe not. But one finger removed and you'll be begging for mercy."

The girl swivels around from where she was pressed against him and spat in his face. "You'd be surprised which one of us will be begging for mercy." And in one slick move she disarmed him, sent him to the ground, and wrenched his arm 90 degrees to the left. His own screams were the only ones that filled the air.

I watch in amazement at the flawless yet deadly moves of the girl, reminding me of how I used to fight with my friends. The girl suddenly looks up and stares straight at me, wiping her dark hair out of her face with a white gloved hand. I freeze, my heart racing, but she does nothing more than smile and walk straight into a dark alley, leaving the man she just maimed behind.

When she is gone I walk up to the wailing man. "What did you want with her?" I ask him.

He scoffs, trying to withhold his pain. "Why should I tell you?"

I frown but grap the front of his shirt and glare at him in the eye. "Fine. Then who are you and who are you with?"

He snarls. "I will tell you nothing."

I roll my eyes, taking his injured arm forcefully from his weak grasp and notice what looks like a branding of some kind of snake. I move really close and stare him in the eye. "What is this on your arm?"

He shouts in pain but does not answer my question. I yank his arm and he moans in pain. "You better tell me right now and hope I don't snap your arm in half right here, right now."

He shrieks again and finally gives up. "Fine! Fine, okay! I'll tell you!" I release his arm, and he cradles it. "My name is Anthony Timmons, and I am apart of the Red Cobras."

The Red Cobras again? Who are these people?

I narrow my eyes. "And what are the Red Cobras?"

Anthony looks up to my face from where he's sitting on the ground. "You don't know? Where have you been these last seven years?"

Seven years? Louis hasn't told me about this after seven years? I can't believe it. He was supposed to keep me up-to-date on everything. He sent at least one letter per month, and why couldn't he have mentioned a simple, "Hey, how are you doing? Good? Oh, yeah. There's a very rapid incline in crime because of some group called the Red Cobras."

I sneer. "I do not have to disclose anything to you. Now, tell me."

He sighs. "Fine. We are just a gang. Nothing else, alright? Now let me go. I've told you all I know."

I know that's not all, but I push him back down to the ground and step over his head. I smile to myself as I walk. Maybe I do still have that scary, intimidating aura that I used to have. Or maybe it was his dislocated shoulder. Who knows?

I suddenly realize what time it is. It has to be close to noon by now, and I really should go to the palace, but I can't help feel like I'm avoiding it. Hell, I am avoiding it. I don't want to see Louis yet. And I don't know why. I should be happy. I should be happy that for the first time in eight years I can see him again. But there's this part of me that's so afraid of rejection and dislike, I can't handle it.

I sigh as I sink down onto a bench on Main Street. I know every minute that I spend here without going to the palace jeopardizes my safety, but I just can't help it. I watch as people pass by me without glance, oblivious to the fact they're so close to a convicted criminal. It feels so weird to be surrounded after all these years. I spent most of my time at my mother's never leaving the farm in fear of being ridiculed or stared at. It's like nobody remembers me anymore. And that is completely okay with me. Better to be forgotten than remembered.

My mind wanders off to the Red Cobras. Anthony Timmons said they were just a gang, but is that true? I highly doubt it. There is no such thing as "Just a gang." They're always hiding something even if it's big or small. And whether or not Louis tells me anything about it, I'll find it. This is my city and nothing will happen to it that I won't try to stop.

I hear some people saying it one o'clock and for a second I think they're joking. It can't be that late. My stomach immediately pangs in hunger, which seems impossible after the insane amount of food I just ate. I brush it off as not having adequate Parisian food for such a long time. I walk up to a vendor cart and order a sandwich. I sit back down on the bench and enjoy what could be my last meal if fate decides it, God forbid. But if I would have to choose one last meal before I die, it would be this one.

The walk towards the palace is not pleasant. The sun, though only early March, is blazing and making me sweat much more than I already am. My hands slightly shake, and I grip the hem of my skirt to try to keep them still. My heart races. If I hadn't known any better I would've thought I was having heat stroke, but I know what's really happening. Anyone in my situation would know what was happening.

This fear, this intense fear is eating me alive from the inside out. I just can't get past the fact that he could kill me for being in Paris if he wanted. I doubt he'd do that after all he's communicated to me for these past eight years, but the possibility is still there.

And if not him, then someone else could too. Louis is one of the most beloved kings in France's history, and anyone who has tried to hurt him has been ridiculed and cursed at and… murdered. But I was the first female musketeer. I have saved his life multiple times on some days, so I don't feel like I should be entitled to all of this hate.

I stop suddenly as I see it. The palace's beauty is still immaculate after so long, though I shouldn't be so surprised because it's existed for hundreds of years. I bet if I tried hard, I could remember every single place I've been inside these walls. _Walls_. But they're not walls. Actually, they are rather the opposite. When I'm inside I feel like I'm free to do anything.

Keeping my head down, I approach one of the guards. My nerves flutter as I say, "I-I need to, uh, speak with the king."

I could sense their hot stares on me, but I force myself not to flinch. I glance up at them and realize they're not musketeers, rather uniformed in black and white just like the men in the restaurant were wearing, but this time also with a gold pendant with a design I can't make out.

"And who is asking?"

I swallow a lump in my throat. "J-just tell him that he's been expecting me for a very long time."

The guards glance at one another suspiciously, but one makes his way towards the palace. The minutes tread on like slow, agonizing torture. I still can't believe I'm here. Here, standing in front of what once was my home, after eight years.

I don't even realize when the guard is back and standing in front of me with a stern look on his face. I hold my breath. "He doesn't wish to see you," the guard says. "His Majesty says you should leave Paris and don't bother coming back." He goes back to his post and ignores me.

My eyes fill with tears before I can stop them, and I'm moving before I know where I'm going. I end up crouching in an alley while I sob and throw up and sob again. I start hyperventilating, and then I know I'm in a full-fledged panic attack. Never in my life did I truly think he would reject me. I always thought he would accept me back with open arms. If only I replied to those stupid letters.

I curl up into a ball and bury my face in my knees. And then I hear a snap from behind me. I jump to my feet quickly, quite certain I look somewhat deranged. Shadows emerge from the darkness. Six men, all dressed in black, surround me. I make an attempt to run, but one pushes me to the ground. I get straight back up. No one makes another move.

My heart beats furiously against my chest. _What do I do?_ I haven't been in a physical fight for eight years, and I'm terribly out of shape. _What do I do?_ I see them close in more. _What do I do?_ And then I see out of my peripheral vision a fist flying towards me. I duck at the last second, and the guy who threw it nearly falls.

And then I realize, I can do this.

Another fist. I redirect it with my palm and grab his arm and knee him in the groin. He falls and another comes at me. He grabs me from the front and starts to carry me off, but kick him ferociously, screaming for my life. I figure if I could get someone's attention they could help me deal with this.

Another man comes toward me but before he's able to try to make contact, I'm pushed down to the ground. They jump onto me and start hitting me nonstop. I can't do anything except block as many punches as possible.

My lip and nose start to bleed. I stop screaming. My head spins around and around and around. I can't see straight. I feel like I'm going to die. Maybe that would be better than what just happened to me.

" _He doesn't wish to see you."_

I'm almost about ready to give up and let them kill me, but suddenly the punching stops. The hitting stops. Everything stops.

Either my head has a concussion or I'm going insane, but for a second I see what looks like an angel taking down man after man with ease but never getting blood on its clothing. At least, that's what I think I saw before the darkness overtook me.

* * *

 **(A/N: Heh, heh. How ya doing? I got the chapter done early, and I have the first 1,000 words of the next one done yesterday, too! ( Only two more thousand to go!) So, how are you guys liking it so far! Tell me in your reviews!**

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 **IcyFairy: OMG Thanks so much! And, ugh, that Pony Tale sequel is just blocked. Hopefully I'll get something soon!**

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 **Thanks for all your reviews, guys! They really make my day!**

 **Oh, and I'm probably going to change the title of this story here pretty soon.**

 **Bye, peeps!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	3. The First Reunion

I feel as if I'm dead. That's the state I'd rather be in. I wish I could be six feet under right now and not have a care in the world. I want that black nothingness to overtake me forever, swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this terrible achy feeling inside my heart.

I feel conscious, but the world is dark. Am I dead? I can't be that lucky. I feel very little in my limbs. It's hard to breathe, and air only comes out in short, raspy breaths. If I try very hard I can hear voices, but I'm not certain if it's my imagination or reality.

My fingers feel numb and tingly as I begin to get feeling back inside of them. Soon I realize the blackness in my eyes is a wet cloth over my face. With a very weak and shaky hand, I pull it off, letting the dim candlelight drown me. It's late, I realize as I look out the single window in the room—the sky is dark with no stars peeking through the clouds.

I look around the room. There's not much else besides the bed I'm laying on, a small table, the door leading out of here, and bookshelves filled with titles I can't make out. I struggle to sit up but eventually do it, trying to ignore the pain that shoots up my back with every move I make.

I hear the door click, and I lie down really fast, closing my eyes, but not fast enough, apparently, because someone with a fairly young voice says, "Mother, she's awake."

I hear muffled footsteps shuffling across the floor before the wet rag is taken off my forehead. "It's no use in faking. I know you're awake," a woman says, but there is no sternness in her voice as she speaks; rather a sweet, melodious laughter that I haven't heard in years.

I open my eyes to reveal a woman standing in front of the bed, her body blocking the dim light of the candle, and, therefore, darkening her face. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice slightly raspy.

The woman laughs. "Oh, no need to apologize. It is probably very stressful to end up in a stranger's house after being beaten senseless." I'm about to reply, but she speaks again. "Just a moment. I'll go get you some food."

I try to wait patiently while she's gone, but hunger creeps up on me, so I try to keep to my thoughts. Why does that woman sound so familiar? I feel like I know her. I feel like I've heard her voice before, but I just can't place it.

She comes back in carrying a tray with a plate of bread and some kind of broth. She holds the bowl up to my lips, and I sip slowly, savouring the warmth it fills me with. I drink until the bowl is empty, and the woman sets the plate on my lap.

"Do you think you can handle eating the bread?" she asks. I nod, picking up the first slice and slowly nibble on it. The woman takes the tray and sets it on the table. "You probably want to know what happened, don't you?" I nod again, and she continues. "Alright then. Well, I was walking into town to buy some food, and then I saw you lying in an alley unconscious, so I called my husband, and he helped me get you back home."

She sits down in a chair next to the bed and says, "It look like you took a pretty big beating. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

I stop eating and sigh. "I… I wish I knew. It just… happened, I guess."

"That's horrible," she says. "More than horrible! It's positively atrocious! Why would someone try to hurt a poor, innocent girl like you?"

That word. _Innocent_. Oh, how I dearly wish.

"I don't know."

And that makes me wonder. Why _did_ they attack me? I didn't have much money on me—not enough for that many men, anyway—and I don't even look wealthy. Why attack a poor farm girl? Unless they know who I am and want me gone.

"Well," she says, standing, "you are welcome to stay here as long as you like." She turns toward the door.

"Wait," I say before I can help myself. "Can you step into the light."

She laughs in that light, airy way again. "Of course." She moves toward the candlelight and then stops.

I gasp. The familiar voice suddenly makes sense now. Standing in front of me, red hair and all, is one of the four girls that I left eight years ago.

"Oh!" she gasps. "I forgot to mention my name! It's—"

And we both say "Aramina" at the exact same time.

* * *

Aramina left after that, leaving me to ponder just how lucky I really am. What are the odds, that out of the thousands of people in Paris alone, that one of my best friends is the person who helped me out of that alley? Very, very, very low.

I slept a dreamless sleep and woke up in a daze, wondering for a minute where I was. Aramina comes in later that morning holding my breakfast with her back to me. When she turns to face me, she gasps and drops the food and dishes all over the floor.

"What's wrong?" I quickly sit up.

Aramina doesn't make any motion to pick up the food. She just stands there staring at me. After a moment she shakes her head and starts picking up the shattered glass. "No, it's nothing. It's just… you look like someone I know—knew." I don't say anything more as she leaves the room to get me more food.

She comes back with my breakfast consisting of more broth and bread. I probably couldn't keep down anything else, so I graciously accepted it.

After I am finished Aramina and I converse lightly. I could tell she was a little freaked out about my presence, but she says nothing more about it.

"So what is your name?" she asks me.

I smile. I had been anticipating this question for a while. "Call me Marie."

Aramina raises an eyebrow. "Is that your real name?"

I shake my head. "No, but it's better if you don't know." She didn't press again after that.

The door slowly opened, revealing the little girl that checked on me the first time I awoke. "How is she, mother?" she asks quietly.

Aramina turns around to face her, a smile on her face. "Well, why don't you come here and ask, Juliet?"

The girl approaches me cautiously, as if seeing if I'm a danger to her. "How are you feeling?" she asks me.

I show a hint of a smile. "I'm okay," I lie. Actually, I feel quite horrible, but I'm not going to let her know that.

"That's good," she whispers and then leaves the room.

"I-is that your daughter?" I ask.

Aramina nods, looking out into space. "Stepdaughter," she quickly clarifies. "Her mother, my husband's late wife, died six years ago when she was a baby, so she's been mine for three years."

Louis hadn't mentioned Elijah had a child. There were so many things he hadn't mentioned, though. I shouldn't be so surprised.

"So, uh," I begin, "you said you had a friend that looked like me. W-what happened to her?" I'm not even sure why I'm asking her this, but I might as well hear it from her account while I'm able to have it.

Aramina looks at her teal shoes and sighs quietly. "Well, around eight years ago—I don't know the exact date—she was banished from Paris." I'm expecting her to stay quiet, but she continues. "And then we found out that there was an accident. Something caught fire in her home. The neighbors tried to help, but it was too late. She was pronounced dead four years ago."

My breathing hitches for a second. This can't be right. Everyone thinks I'm dead? But… there was never a fire. There was never an accident. The closest I came to death was when I had that pneumonia the first few months. Who has been telling people these lies?

I know I shouldn't, but I press on. I need to know. "Who told you this?" I ask.

I can see tears glint in Aramina's eyes. "We were sent a letter from the king."

The king sent the letters? Louis sent them the letters? He wanted them to think me dead. Why? I thought he loved me. He was lying to me for so long. How could he after everything I've done for him? Maybe he's the real traitor.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yes," I lie.

I stay with Aramina for three days to regain my strength. I was beaten pretty badly, but luckily I'm able to recover quickly.

It's hard staying with my friend and not telling her who I am. I think she has her suspicions, but she hasn't mentioned anything about "her friend" since yesterday, and I'd rather keep it that way.

I still can't wrap my head around why Louis would do something like this. It's not like him—or it wasn't like him, I should say. It's like he's a completely different person from the last time I saw him. He practically is a different person by now. He was still mine a little more than six months ago, but now... I'm not sure I know anymore.

I sigh as a sit at Aramina's kitchen table. She sends me a curious glance as she washes the breakfast dishes. "Are you alright? You seem a little down."

I force myself to smile. "Well, wouldn't you be, too, in my situation?"

She drys a plate, laughing. "You do have a point there."

I stand and walk over to Aramina. "I know." I take the dishrag and plate and start to dry the plates. She starts to object, but I cut her off. "No, it's the least I could do for all you've done for me."

She smiles again, and, as I dry the dishes, I remember how much I took Aramina for granted back in those days. She was the one who convinced Renée to let me stay with them my first night here. She was the one who taught me to dance. She was the one who comforted me when I cried. Yes, she was dramatic and boy-crazy and annoying at times, but she cared so much about everyone. And I'm glad that out of my three best friends, she was the one to find me.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Aramina asks, dragging me out of my memories.

I feel my cheeks heat up. "I'm just… it's nothing."

She nudges me. "Oh, come on. Just tell me."

For some reason tears sting my eyes. "I can't."

"Why not? I mean—"

I turn away from her. "I just can't, okay?"

I can see the hurt on her face, but it disappears within seconds. "Alright. Um…" She takes the dishrag from me and smiles, but I know it's not completely genuine. "I can finish up here. Thanks for your help."

I nod and leave the room. Once lying on my—I mean, Aramina's—bed, I slowly let my tears fall, forcing myself to stay silent.

It's not awkward between Aramina and I after our situation this. I try to make it seem so for a reason I'm not exactly sure of, but Aramina naturally lets things go. I sit at the table with her family, everything seeming fine, except for my nerves. I can't help but feel like I'm intruding, but she made me come.

"You're our guest, Marie," she had said this afternoon.

I had shrugged and said, "More like patient." Aramina scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not your family."

She sat a hand on my shoulder. "That doesn't matter to me. I don't want you to be forced into your room all day."

"First of all," I had said, "It's your room. I'm just staying there for a very, very brief amount of time. Second, I don't mind being alone."

She had shaken her head. "You are coming to dinner. End of discussion."

And that was the end of the discussion. Aramina had walked out of her room, and, as it happened, I am now sitting next to Aramina and her stepdaughter, with Aramina's husband, Elijah, sitting in front of me.

I'm just in the middle of chewing my pork when Elijah asks me a question.

I quickly swallow. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Where are you from, Marie?" he asks again.

"Gascony," I answer before I think better of it. I then curse under my breath.

Aramina doesn't seem to notice my flub, so I let out a sigh of relief. I think carefully through every answer to any more questions after that. And then I think of my own question to ask.

"So when did the Musketeer uniforms turn black?"

Juliet looks at Aramina. "Mother, what's Mus-cat-eers?"

Aramina looks curiously at me. "You mean you don't know?"

"What?" I ask.

"Those aren't Musketeers."

I furrow my eyebrows. "They aren't?"

She shakes her head. "The Musketeers were disbanded when Monsieur Baudin became captain." I gasp, not able to believe any of this. She smiles, staring at her lap. "It was silly, but I… I was a musketeer once."

"Then why aren't you now?"

She sighs deeply. "Monsieur Baudin doesn't believe that females should have those kinds of honors."

I fist the fabric of my dress. "And what has the king done about this?"

I can see hatred flash in her eyes before disappearing a second later. "Absolutely nothing." It had come out as a whisper, but it felt like she was yelling in my ear.

He'd done nothing. And that doesn't surprise me. Not one little bit.

* * *

After helping Aramina with the dishes, this time with no further predicament, I tell Aramina that I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Leaving to where, I didn't say, and neither do I know.

* * *

"Aramina, I don't know how to repay you for what you've done for me," I say as we say our goodbyes.

She laughs her beautiful, airy laugh again. "There's no need to." She wraps her arms around me and squeezes, just for a moment or two, but it's the first hug that I've gotten from anyone but my mother for eight years.

I smile and open her apartment door. I say, "Thank you," one more time before leaving her smiling, familiar face behind.

* * *

The walk through town this time around has me less nervous—though more paranoid—than the last time I walked through these streets. It seems… friendlier, more vibrant.

I've decided that I'll stay in Paris until the afternoon, then I'll head for the nearest town and make my home there. I can't go back to the farm for multiple reasons, but mainly because I can't put my mother through my emotional turmoil again. I can deal with it myself.

* * *

It's nearly seven in the evening when I round a corner and stop dead in my tracks. I see the blackness of their clothes and know exactly who they are. My attackers. They walk into a tavern, and I follow them out of instinct.

The smell of alcohol hits me like manure. And not just the alcohol. The drunks. I shake my head and focus as the men I'm shadowing sit down in a corner. I sit down close enough to hear, but not enough to rouse suspicion.

"Do you think she's alive?" one man asks.

I realize that they must be talking about me.

"I'm not sure. Someone definitely saved her," another said.

"Boss is furious, you know," the third said.

Another man sighed. "Of course we know. But all we have to do is either kill her or make her leave town. It's that simple."

Well, that settles it. I am not leaving town.

The second man groans. "No. It's not that simple. She has to die. That's what he said he wanted to happen, so that's what we're going to do. We need to hunt her down and kill her quick. Is that clear?"

They all murmur their agreements.

I dart out of the tavern as quickly as I can. They were going to kill me that day. They're going to kill me now. They're going to hunt me down. And they won't stop until I'm dead.

I run down the street and back to Aramina's apartment, knocking on the door as quickly as I can. She opens it a moment later with a terrified look on her face.

"Marie, what happened?" she asks me.

I shake my head. "That's not my name. You know who I am." When she doesn't say anything I say, "My name is Corinne." I haven't said my name in so long, I realize.

She gasps, and I think I can see tears in her eyes. "You're not Corinne. Corinne is dead."

I step in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. "Aramina, my name is Corinne D'Artagnan. I was born in Gascony. I came to Paris to be a Musketeer. Me, you, Viveca, and Renée became Musketeers after defeating Louis's evil cousin. I fell in love with the king. I was banished for being falsely accused of conspiring to assassinate the king."

She folds her arms across her chest. "Anyone could know that."

I feel tears streaming down my own face. "Look into my eyes, Aramina, and tell me if I'm Corinne."

She stares for what seems like forever, and then suddenly wraps her arms around me, letting her tears fall freely. "They said you were dead."

"They lied to you," I whisper. _He lied to you._

She pulls back and wipes away her tears with shaky hands. "What do you need, Corinne? I'll do anything. Just tell me" I smile and whisper exactly what I need into her ear. She raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

* * *

 **(A/N: Hey, guys! Woohoo! I'm on schedule! I had the first 500 words of the next chapter done a few days ago, and last night I wrote another 1,500, because I've been slacking off a little bit. Motivation has been a little tough, but I've been making myself go on a schedule: Minimum of three hours of writing per day; one and a half to two hours from 1:00 to 3:00pm, and then another two/two and a half hours from 10:00 to 12:30pm. I'm pretty strict, but not as much on the weekends.**

 **Anyway, How'd you like this chapter? Tell me in the reviews!**

 **Replies:**

 **IcyFairy: Ugh. I know. She's been through so much! Well, I can't tell you what a Red Cobra is yet… but you'll find out soon! And it will probably be a while until they meet, but you know me. I'm such a liar. Hee…**

 **Turquisea: Aww. You're so sweet! I always aim to be such! Was that a cliffie? Well, that's nothing compared to what's coming. I've decided to do more cliffies this story, because, well…, because I can. Yikes, do I wish to murder you? No, not really. Nope, no explanation for you!**

 **Okay, okay. Is this happy enough for you? I mean, you got to meet Aramina. Come on. And, awwwwwwww! You think I'm the Queen of Angst?! No that's an awesome title! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Sophhascoconuts: OMG Thanks! I try my best!**

 **maryam969: Well, we probably won't meet Lou for a while. You got an explanation about the uniforms in this chapter. It's so sad!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: OMG I KNOW, RIGHT? Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks for the reviews, guys!**

 **Until next Tuesday (Hopefully),**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	4. Flashbacks

It took a lot of convincing to get Aramina to cut my hair. My waist-length, wavy, mess of hair that has been weighing my head down for decades. I had argued with her nonstop about it for an hour, but I eventually won, telling her that it would grow back eventually. And now I'm sitting in a chair with her holding scissors to my head.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Corinne?" she asks.

I roll my eyes. "You've asked me that three times in the last two minutes, but I'll tell you one more time." I pause and glance at her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure!"

"Okay…" She moves the scissors closer to my hair, and I almost think she's going to do it. Almost. "Oh! I can't do it, Corinne! I can't!"

I sigh, trying to take the scissors, but she moves away from me. "No, Corinne! I'm not letting you do this!"

I roll my eyes and walk towards the kitchen. Aramina stares at me nervously. "What are you doing?"

I grab one of her kitchen knives and walk to the washroom, slamming the door in her face. I stare back at my reflection and wrap a curl around my finger. I take a deep breath, gathering my hair into one big handful, and then close my eyes. I slice away my blond locks as quickly as I can.

When I open the door, Aramina gasps. "C-corinne, you—"

Fold my arms over my chest. "It's just hair, Aramina. Now are you going to help me even it out or not?"

She nods, and I sit down in the chair again. She cuts easier now, and I get straight ends in a few minutes. "There. I'm done."

I stand and move back to the mirror. My hair now just ends below my shoulders. I almost want to cry, but I force myself not to. I go sit back down on the chair and say, "Okay, now are you ready to dye?"

"Die!"

I laugh. "No, dye. You know, dye it brown like I said?"

Aramina gasps. "You were serious?"

"Yes."

She shakes her head. "Fine, fine. But don't blame me if it turns orange."

And then the next time I look back into the mirror, it's like I'm a completely different person.

* * *

Going outdoors is easier after I changed my appearance. I doubt anyone would remember me if I still was a blonde, but I'm not taking any chances. I just hope that cutting and coloring my hair is enough.

I walk with Aramina to the market around noon to get some fresh air. It's been a week since I first came to Paris, and I'm starting to think I might be going stir-crazy from being inside for so long. Either that or I'm just going crazy.

The market is crowded with people, but I don't feel nervous anymore. It's as if by changing my appearance fixed the world somehow, but I know that's not the case. These men who are after me—whoever they are—will still hunt me down, will still kill me within seconds. I still have to be careful. And not just of them, either. I need to be careful of everyone, even those I knew and trusted so long ago.

 _Trust_. That word is a lie. It has been for years, apparently. I just haven't known it. I've been lied to for so long and haven't known it. As far as I'm concerned, every word that came out of Louis's mouth is a lie. Every whisper. Every phrase. Everything. Even his last words that he said to me.

 _I love you_.

He didn't love me. He never did. He never will. And neither will I.

Aramina pulls me along to a produce cart, and we get some vegetables for dinner tonight and tomorrow. She wants me to stay with her again, but I told her that I've decided to stay with an old family friend for a while. I couldn't bring danger to her family. If I did I never could forgive myself.

I've begun to notice that crime has gone up since we've all left. There's been so many robberies and murders the past few years, and the new force hasn't been able to handle it. I'm not sure they're trying, though. I haven't seen any men in the streets as of yet.

Aramina and I sit down in one of the parks after our shopping. We don't speak for a while, and the silence is intoxicating. I sigh and stare out into the field.

"What happened?" Aramina asks me suddenly.

I glance at her. "What?"

She tucks a loose hair behind her ear. "What really happened that day? The day you were banished, I mean."

"You don't know?"

She shakes her head. "No one ever told us."

My mind subconsciously wanders back to those precious days before they took me into custody.

" _It's so hot," Viveca wined as she and her three other friends walked back to their apartment. "It's only March, and it's not even spring yet!"_

 _Renée shook her head. "Last week you were just complaining that it was too cold. Make up your mind!"_

 _Viveca let out little humph and started sulking._

 _Aramina laughed. "It's not that bad. Right, Corinne?" She turned to the blonde that stared off into the distance, her mind wandering._

" _Corinne," Aramina repeated._

 _Still, she did not even glance her way._

" _Corinne!"_

 _The blonde finally snapped her head towards the redhead. "Huh?"_

 _Viveca snorted in laughter, but Aramina ignored her. "I asked, 'It's not that bad. Right, Corinne?'"_

 _Corinne furrowed her eyebrows. "What's not that bad?"_

 _This time Renée snorted in laughter. "Did you really not hear one word out of our mouths? We were talking about the weather."_

 _Corinne rolled her eyes. "It's the weather. You know I always tune out the weather."_

 _Aramina shook her head. "Yes, but this has been the third time in less than twelve hours you've done this to us." She locked her arm around the blonde's, nudging her stomach. "Come on, tell us what's on your mind."_

 _Corinne unraveled herself from Aramina and started jogging ahead of them. They just caught right back up. "No way."_

 _Aramina tugged on Corinne's arm. "Come on, please!"_

 _Corinne groaned. "No."_

" _Please!"_

" _No."_

" _Please!"_

" _No."_

" _Please!"_

" _No."_

" _Please!"_

" _Fine, all right!" Corinne growled and swirled around, so she could face them. "I've been thinking a lot about…" She trailed off._

" _About?" Viveca urged her on._

 _Corinne sighed. "About Louis and I. We've been together for, well, I don't know because we always kind of were, but lately he's been so distant; like he knows something I don't." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her feet. "When I passed by him in the halls today, something came over him. He turned rigid, his eyes turned dark, almost like they were full of hate."_

 _Corinne looked up at her friends sympathetic faces. "We haven't gone on the balloon for nearly a month. It's kind of scaring me."_

 _Renée wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Oh, it's okay, Cor. He's probably just under a lot of stress. You know how his job is."_

 _She nods her head. "You're probably right."_

 _The girls were in their apartment when a knock rang through the room. Corinne jumped to her feet. "I'll get it!" she shouted, though they could hear her perfectly fine in her normal voice._

 _Corinne opened the door, revealing Serge holding something behind his back. "Delivery for Madame D'Artagnan?"_

 _Corinne smiled and shoved his shoulder playfully. "You know who I am. Don't be an ass."_

" _Aw, but, my dear. That's my specialty." Serge smiled, handed her the letter, and then ran off to his duties._

 _Corinne walked back into the room with a slight smile on her face, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She shuffled the letter between her hands._

" _Ooh," Aramina said as soon as she noticed the letter. "Who could that be from? she asked, even though it was quite obvious._

 _Corinne smiled and sat down on her bed, flipping over the letter. "It's from Louis!" she said in surprise. She ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the page._

 _She smiled. And this time it met her eyes._

* * *

 _It was nearly_ _eleven when Corinne got down to the palace grounds. That was when he told her to meet him. For some reason she felt antsy, which was odd because they'd had plenty of late-night balloon rides during her time in Paris._

 _Once she got to the landing pavilion, as they liked to call it, Corinne noticed that the balloon was inflated and ready to go. But he wasn't there._

" _Louis," she whispered, though she knew no person with regular senses could hear it. "Louis," she whispered again, this time a little bit louder._

 _Some leaves rustled, and Corinne spun around, ready to face any sort of foe. She was about to strike, but then she saw the face as they emerged from the bushes._

" _Louis!" she half-shouted. "What were you doing in the bushes?"_

 _He held up a small, dark figure, camouflaged by the darkness. "The balloon lost a part."_

 _The blonde nodded and approached him warily. She wasn't exactly sure what he called her down here for, but she wasn't about to take any chances of being caught off guard._

" _So… do you want to, uh…" Corinne gestured toward the balloon._

 _Louis nodded, and they walked over to the ladder together but several feet apart. He went up first. And then her. He gave her his hand as she climbed into the basket._

 _They flew in awkward silence for what seemed like forever. Both glanced at each other, but quickly looked the other way when they knew the other was looking._

 _Finally, Corinne said, "So, uh, what was this ride about?"_

 _Louis turned toward her, and she noticed again that his eyes were darkened._ Like coal _, she thought._

" _I needed to talk to you" was all he said._

 _Corinne nodded. "So talk."_

 _He let out a deep breath then looked at me. "Corinne, I… I've always trusted you. Ever since you saved me from this"—He laughed quietly, staring down at the balloon—"this death trap, I've always felt like I could trust you."_

 _Corinne furrowed her eyebrows, not knowing where this conversation was going._

" _You've always been there for me, and not only rescuing me in very bad moments. You're always around when I need someone to talk to, you're always there when I feel stressed or sad. You've been so good to me for so long, and I hope that I've been equally or more so to you._

" _What I'm saying is that we think we know each other like the back of our hand, but sometimes we really don't. There's things you don't know about me, and things I'll never tell you. It's the same way with you."_

 _He took one of her hands and squeezed it. "But, please, I'm begging you. If there is anything of large significance that you haven't told me, please tell me now."_

 _Corinne doesn't answer, and for a second she thinks she sees a flicker of disappointment flash through his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it was there._

" _Okay, then. I think we should bring her down," he said._

 _She went down first, and then him. Louis faced Corinne, his hand wrapped around her own. He leaned in, staring at her in the eye, and she realized that his eyes weren't black anymore. They were the same chocolate brown that she knew for so long. He leaned in close to where their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes and held her close._

" _I love you," he whispered. "Always remember that."_

"Corinne!" Aramina nearly shouted, waking me from my memories. I look at her apologetically, and she gasps. "Oh, my God, are you alright?" She wraps me her arms around me in an embrace.

That's when I realize that I have tears in my eyes. These memories. They're all just so painful. I know that word's getting old to describe everything, but that's all I can say. Everything's just so painful.

I've only felt pain for these past eight years, and I can't remember one genuinely happy moment that's happened to me since then.

Aramina holds me at arm's length. She wipes away some of the tears that start streaming down my face. "Oh, honey, it's going to be okay." She embraces me, and I start to cry into her shoulder.

"Aramina, it—it's, I mean, it's j-just—i-it just hurts so much," I finally get out after stuttering through my tears. "H-he said he doesn't w-wish to see me."

She squeezes me tighter and strokes my hair. "I know, honey."

I pull away from her, my lip quivering. "Why would he do this to me?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I really thought he loved you, even after you were banished."

"Will you, uh, tell me what happened after I left?" I ask, wiping away my tears.

Aramina nods. "Of course."

" _You are free to go, ladies," a musketeer said as he unlocked their cell doors. "All investigations have ceased, and your names have been cleared."_

 _Viveca, Aramina, and Renée slowly walked out of the dungeon with a mixture of disgust and betrayal etched onto their faces. As soon as they stepped foot into the palace, Viveca burst into tears._

" _Calm down, Viveca," Renée barked._

" _We were kept in a dungeon for two days!" she shrieked. "I have dirt smudged on my face and bread in my stomach. And it didn't even have butter!" She clung to Aramina's shirt as a whole new round of sobs came on._

 _Aramina slowly helped her stand up straight. "Viveca, you have to calm down. You're not making this better for anyone. The least we can do is try to stay calm and figure all this out, okay?"_

 _Viveca snarled. "L'enfer avec ça! Next time I see that idiot king, I swear, I'm going to bash his face in!"_

" _Viveca," Renée snarled, "if you don't shut your mouth right now, I'm going to do it for you. You're not helping anyone, and talking like that will only get you killed. Do you understand me?"_

 _The brunette gritted her teeth but nodded begrudgingly._

* * *

" _Are you sure_ _you can handle this, Viveca?" Renée asked as they stood outside the king's office door._

 _Viveca refused to look her in the eye. She had her arms folded across her chest. "Yes."_

 _Renée pointed a finger at her. "I swear to God, if you make one move to do anything drastic, I will kick your ass right then and there. Am I clear?"_

 _She nodded, and Renée knocked on the door._

" _Who is it?" a male voice asked._

" _Uh, Viveca, Aramina, and Renée, Your Majesty," Aramina said._

 _After a few seconds of long silence, he said, "Come in."_

 _Renée opened the door, closing it right behind them. They all curtsied, but he did not even spare them a glance as he stared at the papers in his hands._

" _What do you want?" Louis asked, taking off his glasses. His face was completely neutral, but his voice was filled with venom. As if they were the one's at fault._

 _Renée said, "Well, we were hoping to talk to you about what happened."_

 _Viveca didn't acknowledge anything said and just stared off into a random space in the room._

 _His body tensed, and his hands started wrinkling the documents in his hands._

" _We thought that maybe you would like to talk to someone as well," Aramina added._

 _Louis's hands started shaking, so he hid them under his desk. "Well, you thought wrong." He stared down at his hands, begging himself to get a grip._

 _Aramina looked at her shoes. "Oh, okay. I just thought that—"_

" _Leave."_

 _Renée shook her head. "What?"_

" _You heard me," he said. "Leave."_

 _Aramina could feel the tears gather in her eyes._

" _You can't be serious," Renée gasped._

 _Louis drew another paper from a drawer, still trying to get his hands under control. "Oh, I am perfectly serious." He gripped the edge of the desk. "Leave."_

 _Renée's lip started quivering. "After everything we've done for you, this how you treat us? Her breathing started to hitch. "After everything she's done for you, this is how you repay her?"_

" _Leave, Renée," he repeated again, desperately trying to get a grip on himself._

 _Renée slammed her fist on his desk. "How could you do this to her?"_

 _He refused to meet her deadly eyes. "Get out."_

" _Look at me."_

 _Louis took a deep breath. "Do not order me as if you're my superior."_

 _In one fluid motion, Renée cleared everything off his desk. "Look at me, you damn coward."_

 _Louis shot up out of his chair, flipping it in the process, and braced his arms on the mahogany desk. He looked into her eyes, into all of their eyes. And in them he saw sadness, but not just that. Anger. Intense anger from every single one of them, including Aramina._

" _You did this to her," Renée growled._

" _I did no such thing!" he shouted with shocking rage. This surprised everyone. Very few have seen him like this. "She did this to herself!"_

 _Renée leaned closer to him. "You could have stopped it. You're the king."_

 _Louis looked away from her eyes. "No I couldn't have. It was done."_

" _I don't believe you."_

" _It doesn't matter what you believe, Renée."_

 _She shook her head. "You're right. It doesn't matter what I believe. It matters what your people believe." She laid her glare intently on him. "By tomorrow, every single person in Paris will know about Corinne's false banishment. I will assure you of that."_

 _Louis's hands dug into the sharp ends of the desk. "Do that, and I'll have you all killed."_

 _Renée smirked. It made goosebumps rise on his arms. "Do_ that _and watch your reputation shatter."_

 _He didn't reply._

" _I think we'll be going now." She turned away from him and gestured her for the girls to follow._

 _Right before they walked out the door, they heard him say, "I wish she were dead."_

 _Aramina snarled. She turned around and punched him in the face. He fell, bracing himself on the pile of clutter on the floor. A dull, burning pain started to erupt though his hand. "What do you want from me?" he whispered._

 _Renée pulled back his desk on one motion, flipping it to see him on his knees, blood pouring from his hand. "You broke her heart. We might as well now break you." She tried to take a step toward him, but Viveca held her back, shaking her head._

 _They turned from the room all at once, leaving the king alone._

 _Louis didn't move from his position on the floor. The letter opener dug into his palm, creating a warm pool of blood pouring onto the floor, but instead of removing it, he dug it in deeper and hoped it would dull the pain beginning to pile up inside of his heart._

* * *

 **(A/N: HI! OMG IT'S FINALLY TUESDAY! Eeek! I've been waiting for today for a week! Haha. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters. I know it's not the happiest chapter, but it's really important. But, ugh, transitioning from first to third person is HARD. I've got the next chapter done and I'm halfway through six, so let's hope I keep this up!**

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 **PrincessGeekelle: OMG I know! 3 Ara! Nice theory, but I'll neither confirm nor reject it. Haha.**

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 **IcyFairy: I can't kill you from where I am, and even if I wanted to, that would mean one less reviewer! :D Honestly, I'm not good with titles. Titles, IMO, are the worst things ever! They are so hard. So, I'd go with KeelyKelly's suggestion and go with "Precious Times." Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Thanks for the reviews, peeps! You are awesome!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	5. James

I couldn't believe what Aramina had told me. It was hard to imagine Renée talking to him like that. It was even harder to imagine Aramina punching him in the face. I guess these are the moments that define who you really are.

Aramina and I sit in silence for what seems like forever, but I finally ask her, "So, what happened after that?"

She looks at her feet. "Well, the king told no one of what happened. But I'm sure people eventually caught on from his black eye and my broken fingers."

"You broke your fingers!" I exclaim. "How hard did you punch him?"

She stares me in the eye. "We were all raging, Corinne. I could have killed him right then and there, but I knew that wouldn't help anything."

"I wish you had," I mumbled, not caring whether she could hear me or not.

* * *

Being in Paris again feels amazing, with or without… _him._ I can't bear to say his name anymore. All it reminds me of is what I lost and can't have.

I've taken up a new identity as Marie Duchamps. I'm a lowly peasant farm worker from the south who came to Paris for new opportunities and whatnot. Now acquiring my new brown locks, I blend in most effectively with the regular women of this city and can now go wherever I want.

I still get antsy around these black-uniformed musketeer look-a-likes. I've been told they're called the Black Cobras, named after the gang, so that they know who is more powerful and dark and demeaning. Obviously that's not working since crime has been at its most since two years ago.

I feel like the Black Cobras watch me. They can't be, though. I'm about as inconspicuous as they come. I'm not pretty. _He_ always said I was, but as far as I'm concerned everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie.

I try to focus on my book as I sit on a bench in the square, but the Cobras that are showing off their swordfighting make me squirm. I could easily move to another spot, but there's something so… so liberating about watching these fights again. Every move they make, no matter how abhorrently sloppy, brings back those breathtaking memories from my glory days.

Right now two men, a brown-haired and a redhead, spar with each other. It's not apparent who's better because they are both equally awful, as far as I can see at least. Once the redhead collects the sword by an accidental slip-up from his opponent, another pair of men step onto the square's center. This time, though, they're suited up in a white, padded suit and a mask. They're fencing, I realize. Fencing, not fighting.

They ready their swords in their gloved hands. Someone blows a whistle, and I blink. One of the men have neutraled themselves, and the other stands in obvious defeat. What just happened?

They take off their helmets and shake hands. And then one of them—the winner—turns around and faces directly at me. Nearly-white eyes stare at me, and I feel sweat dripping down the back of my neck, but it's not because he's a cobra. It's because I know him.

James. The man I saw at the restaurant.

He stares straight at me with no particular expression on his face. And then as quickly as it happened, he turns away.

My breathing gets sharp for a moment, so I pack up my things and run away from the square as fast as my legs can carry me.

* * *

I lock the door as soon as I get into Aramina's apartment. My chest heaves, and I try to control my breathing as much as I can.

Aramina comes and sits by me with a questioning look. "Are you alright? Did you see your attacker again?"

I shake my head.

"Then what?" she asks.

"F-fencing… swordfights," I stutter. "They were fighting in the town square."

Aramina laughs. "Oh, don't tell me that still bugs you so much."

I smile slightly. I have always been annoyed with the musketeers flaunting themselves, so I made sure no one was allowed to do it anymore. Another thing that's changed for the worst since I've been gone.

"No, it's not that. It's…" I trail off.

She nudges me. "Come on, Cor."

I bite my lip. "Well, it's really stupid." I tell her all about my first few hours in Paris and the men in the restaurant.

After I'm finished, Aramina laughs again. "Oh, Corinne. You're so paranoid."

I sigh. "Don't you think I have a right to be? One slip up and I might be executed. You know that, right?"

She smiles. "Oh, I know. But what are the chances that that boy knows who you are. You said it yourself that he looked young."

I shrug and lean into Aramina. I just feel so much comfort when I'm with her anymore. "It's just this gut feeling I have."

She squeezes my shoulder. "Cor, it's alright. It's probably nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Okay," I say.

"Oh, and I would probably say it's a good idea to stay out of the main square from now on."

* * *

Aramina is right. It is a good idea to stay out of the main square that's practically crawling with Black Cobras. It's a good idea, but that doesn't mean I'm going to follow her advice.

For some reason I am not able to stop "casually" walking through the square once or twice to see the fighting. It's been taken from me for so long, and now it's so close that I could just reach out and touch it if I tried.

He comes onto the square. His white suit almost glitters as he pulls out his sword. I hold my breath, not daring to miss a moment.

The whistle blows, and in half a second, the opponent is on the ground.

And it's the same the next day.

And the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And by the seventh day, I finally realize that it's not fighting that I come for.

It's him.

The raven-haired, white-eyed boy that can take down anyone who comes his way and do it in a style of pristine grace and finesse. A style that reminds me so much of how my friends and I fought back so long ago.

Every opponent that comes at him is taken down within seconds. I often feel pangs of jealousy at his ability, but I remind myself that I was once able to fight like that. I could still if I wanted to.

If I wanted to. I suppose I do, sometimes at least. It's just fighting has been out of the question for so long that I feel like I've almost lost my need for it. Need. Passion. Distraction. Infraction.

I watch him again. I watch his body move. Every glorious, perfectly executed move. Is this what it was like to watch us back then? It's like watching an angel. No, not an angel. A demon. A perfectly glorious demon.

Every time his turn is over, he watches me. I no longer pretend to read. I just stare back at his white eyes. White. Such a strange color. So plain, yet, it's so, so beautiful.

He turns away from me. Again. He does this every single day, but he's never said a word to me. And it's the same each day. He stares, I stare back. I'm not afraid of him anymore. If he had known who I was, he would have turned me in by now.

And now we just stare.

* * *

Shamefully, I ask Aramina a question I should have asked a long time ago.

"What happened to the others?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Others?"

I shrug, though I mean it absolutely seriously. "You know, Viveca and Renée. What happened after your story. Where did they go."

Aramina bit her lip and stared at her shoes. "Well, we stayed here until Baudin fired us. Viveca started going into hysterics. She screamed and cried and cursed… a lot." The corners of her mouth tilted upwards. "She started wrecking some of the palace property. Baudin wanted her arrested, but the king decided to let her calm down.

"Viveca left for England. She decided that France was not for her anymore," she continued.

I try not to show much surprise, but it's hard not to. "V-viveca's gone?"

Aramina nods. "Yes. But I'm sure it's not because she wanted to. She loves Paris. It's been her dream from the very beginning."

I sigh. "And Renée?"

Aramina freezes for a moment. Sadness fills her eyes. "After we were told the news by Baudin she left."

"The news of you all being fired?" I ask.

A slight shake of Aramina's head confuses me. Isn't that all the news there is? "No. She left after the news of your death." I gasp, but she continues. "We got the letters, and that same day she just walked out and… never came back."

Aramina shook her head. "I guess we all kind of knew what this place was becoming. We knew it wasn't long before something happened to the Musketeers. Tréville was getting older and the king was getting colder. We were just slowly falling apart at the seams."

"Where is Tréville now?" I ask, biting my lip because I'm not sure I want to hear the answer. Tréville was like a second father to me, and I'm not sure I could take any more horrible news.

Aramina smiles a tiny bit. "He decided to leave the big city life behind. He now lives near his daughter and grandchildren."

He's alive, then. That's good. Very good.

"Corinne," Aramina says, "now that you've asked me all these things, I want to ask you something, okay?"

I nod my head slowly. "Alright."

She stares at me intently. "You've been going to the main square, haven't you?"

My face twitches before I can stop it. "N-no," I stutter and mentally smack myself.

Aramina sighs. "You are a terrible liar," she says.

My ability to lie has been declining drastically for the past few years. But I guess not having practiced for so long has proven me terrible.

"I know."

She nudges me. "So are you?" I don't look at her. She smiles. "Come on. I won't be mad. I'm just wondering."

I sigh and nod. "Yes."

"Why?"

I turn to look her in the eye. "I… I don't really know. I just… the way they fight is… incredible."

"Incredible?" Aramina scoffs. "Corinne, you must have had hit your head really hard to think those men are incredible. They're sloppy at best."

"Well," I say, "actually, it's just one, I guess. He's one of the most brilliant swordsmen I've ever seen. Every move he makes is flawless. Almost as if he's an angel."

She rolls her eyes. "None of those men are 'angels,' Corinne."

"Well, maybe not, but I can't help but feel something with this boy. It's like he knows me, but he's never said anything about it."

Aramina sighs. "Just… be careful, Corinne. I thought you've been gone for four years. I don't think I could handle losing you for real."

"At least somebody thinks so," I mutter.

* * *

I sit on my bench and watch the fights going on in the town square. I've been here for nearly an hour, but there still is no James. I realize as I sit on that bench that I've developed a minor obsession. Minor, but still an obsession.

I start to get antsy. He's usually here on time, give or take a few minutes. What if something happened to him? What if he doesn't want to fight anymore? What will I do then?

A tap on my shoulder makes me nearly fall off the bench. I leap to my feet and very nearly pummel my attacker.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he said, backing up, his hands defensively in the air. "No need for violence! I just wanted to speak with you."

As I come out of my daze, I suddenly realize who it is. I could pick out those eyes anywhere. "James," I whisper.

He furrows his eyebrows. "Yes. How do you know my name?"

I wrack my brain for answers. Where did I learn his name? Everything is going blank. "Uh… I… heard your comrades say it."

He looks curiously at me. "Well, aren't you perceptive."

I don't reply. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to settle the nerves in my stomach.

"What's your name?" he asks.

My face twitches. "Damn it," I whisper.

"What?" he says, surprised.

"Oh, my name is Cor — " — I swear — "er, Marie, I mean."

He raises an eyebrow. "I see." His gaze shifts to his fighting comrades, and I shift mine to the ground. "So," he begins confidently, "why do you always watch us?"

"Watch you?" I scoff, trying to sound normal, but I can't help the higher pitch of my voice. God, I need to work on this lying. "That's ridiculous." I curse under my breath again.

I look up at him and realize that he's smiling at me. Just a faint smile, but still a smile. "Would you walk with me?"

"Walk with you?"

"Yes," he says, the smile still there.

I glance at the town square. "But aren't you supposed to be fighting?"

He shakes his head, and some of his ebony curls fall into his eyes. "Not today. I just got off from town patrol, so no more fighting today." He smiles again and holds out his hand.

I debate with myself whether this is a good idea or not. Probably not. I really should listen to my conscience more. But why start now?

I accept his hand. It's so smooth with no callouses. Like _his_ hands.

We walk side-by-side, close, but not touching. I haven't walked with anyone since… _him_. It's a strange feeling, but it's a good feeling. Just for the moment, I don't feel lonely anymore.

"So," I almost choke out, "did you want to talk to me about something?"

He nods quickly. "Well, you see, I've just seen you around a lot, and I thought you may need a friend."

I raise an eyebrow. "A friend?" I repeat.

"Yes. You only ever sit on that bench alone, you know. It must get lonely eventually."

So he has noticed me. How perfect. "Oh, well, I'm not lonely," I say, trying to smile. "I just like to be alone."

He glances at me. "Isn't that what all lonely people say?"

I stare at him blankly. "No, and I have friends, thank you very much." I shake my head. "And why are you even talking to me about this, anyway? Aren't you a cobra or something? So high above the rankings that you don't care about the people?"

He sighs. "Is that what you think?"

I nod.

"Well, you're wrong." He stops abruptly and stares at me. "I may be a higher up, but I'm not so selfish as to leave these people to themselves. Paris is…" He trails off, staring at the city. "Paris is my life, and so are its people. If they need help I'll protect them no matter what."

His eyes are so full of love and kindness as he speaks, and I can't help but listen to each word he says with same — and somewhat inane — intensity. It's been so long since I've heard someone speak like this to me.

"I see" is all I say.

* * *

I walk with James for what seems like forever. He still hasn't answered my question as to why he wants to walk with me in the first place, but, after a while, I don't pry. It's just nice to hear someone besides Aramina speak.

He talks about the Black Cobras often. It makes me miss my work as a Musketeer, but I keep reminding myself that I'm over it now. Well, then I guess that means reminding is the same as lying.

It's odd. I'm able to easily carry on a conversation, even now after eight years of little to no human contact. James is just so easy to talk to, though he does most of the talking. I answer when I'm asked a question, but I don't ask him anything myself. I'm afraid to.

"So," James begins with a smile on his face, "how long are you staying in Paris?"

I glance at him with a slight smirk on my own face. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just would like to know when to stop expecting you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Expecting me?"

"Yes. I've been observing you for a while."

"Observing me?"

He laughs. A deep, airy sort of sound. "Is that all you're going to say at once? Two words at a time?"

My cheeks warm, and I quickly avert my eyes to my feet. "Oh, sorry. I just… I don't know when I'm leaving. It will most likely be a split-second decision if I do."

" _If_?" he says. "Does that mean you might not?"

I glance at him. "I don't know. Do you think I should stay?"

He smiles and turns to face me. "I think you should. Maybe I could show you a few moves since you're so into sword-fighting." He throws his sword up in the air and catches it by its handle.

I laugh and pretend to think, tapping my finger against my chin. "Oh, I don't know. I don't want to waste your ever-so valuable time," I say sarcastically.

James smiles and bows deeply. "But, my lady, I would do anything so long it pleases you."

I smile again for what feels like the thousandth time today. "Well," I sigh dramatically, "when you put it that way, I suppose I shall."

James claps his hands together, a huge grin on his face. "Wonderful! Will you meet me tonight at the square?"

I had no idea what was wrong with me. Why was I acting so recklessly? In my head I was saying _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

But somehow my inner monologue failed me no matter how many times I said it, because the first word that came out of my mouth was that one, horrifyingly terrible, word.

" _Yes_."

* * *

 **(A/N: Whoop! We've met James! All I'll say about him is that he's really important. And now we know where Viv and Renée are. It was hard to decide which ones would go and who would stay, but Aramina just seemed the best fit for me.**

 **Replies:**

 **Maryam969: Ugh! I know! It was really hard to write, too. I went to bed after writing the end taking deep breaths because it just affected me so much! Thanks for reviewing!**

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 **IcyFairy: Yes. And make than an idiot with a capital "D." :D**

 **Turquisea: Love/hate relationship? Am I happy? Yes, actually, I am. That's what this story is supposed to be like. :P But, sorry, anyway.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: OMG I KNOW! She was awesome! I've really misused Aramina in the past. I never knew what great a character she could be until I started developing her. Haha. I'll admit, I laughed a little, too.**

 **Asdfghjkl: Thanks so much! I can't speak for KeelyKelly, but I haven't been reviewing Turquisea's writing anymore because I've been so busy writing lately that I've really gotten behind. It's not just her, though. Almost everything I used to review regularly on is pretty much behind, including DeviantArt. I only review things anymore if I have time to spare. And I do love Turquisea's writing! I really do!**

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 **Later, peeps!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	6. The Rebel

I snuck out easily. I was going to stay at an inn, but Aramina absolutely insisted that I stay with her. I couldn't deny her after so long (even if she did threaten to break me if I refused).

Paris would be nearly pitch black if not for a few lanterns that hung on posts around town. Even without the lights, I could have found my way around my old home easily.

The town square was lit by only two lanterns. You could barely see shadows across from near buildings. I found my bench, sat, and waited for him.

It was around midnight. It always is when I do these highly dangerous, theatrical stunts of mine. Deciding to defeat Philippe. Climbing up the king's balcony. Going off with a strange man…

I'm always so sane in the daytime. But the night is a different story. Is it because I'm in a delirious state? Or do I always just get the best ideas when it's dark? I may never know, and even if I did, I don't really care.

I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder, shoving the person to the ground. The shadow holds its hands up in defense.

"Whoa! Marie!" he hisses. "It's me, James!" He curses as he removes himself from the ground.

I stand and hold out a hand for him, which he happily takes. "God, I'm sorry! What is wrong with me?"

He lets out a nervous laugh. "Er, it's alright. No harm done." He flexes his back muscles. "I think." He shakes his head in what seems like embarrassment. "Follow me."

And, even though my moral compass is begging me to run, I immediately follow.

* * *

"We're here," James whispers and opens a door that leads into an old building.

"Really?" I say unamused. "You've got to be kidding me."

He glances to his left and right. "Kidding?"

I nod. "Uh, yeah. Leading me to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night to teach me a few moves?" I scoff. "Likely story." I whip my head around and start to walk away.

"Wait!" he hisses. "Come back!"

"Ha! Actually, I would really prefer _not_ to die today, thank you very much." I start to walk again, but he catches my wrist.

"Please, Marie," he says, the dim lights faintly illuminating his eyes. "Please. I promise I won't hurt you. Come with me."

 _No_ , the logical part of my brain tells itself.

"Yes," I say aloud.

He smiles and gestures for me to come through the door. I follow, knowing that I'm ready for anything he might throw my way.

The warehouse is pitch black, which makes me nervous. I lose track of where James is almost immediately. I'm starting to panic, inching my way to the door, when suddenly lights flicker on around me, illuminating the entire building perfectly.

The first thing I notice: it's huge.

The second thing: this is not an ordinary warehouse.

There is a blue mat covering every inch of the floor with large white circles painted every 20 feet. Weapons are lined on the wall. Swords. Bows. Everything.

This is not just an old warehouse. I know this building. How could I ever have forgotten?

"The Musketeer's training ground," I whisper.

"Yes," James says.

My eyes fill with tears. I never thought I'd see this place again after I heard what happened with the Black Cobras. It's exactly the same as when I left. Even the hole in the wall where I had punched out of a fit of rage is still present and staring out at me from the blue walls.

"W-why'd you bring us here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

James doesn't answer me. He walks to the wall next to our left and flings me a sword. I catch it easily. He stands on the white line of a circle. I stare at him.

"Well? Aren't you coming?" he asks.

I run to the opposite side of where he's standing and step into my stance. James raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"En garde," James says.

"En garde," I whisper.

"Prêt." He pauses. "Allez!"

He shoots from his spot and comes at me. I nearly step back but am able to move to the side before our blades touch. He swings his sword with deadly accuracy, and for a moment I'm afraid. I haven't done this for eight years. I could get hurt, or worse… I could lose. But, already, I've lasted longer than any of the opponents I've seen him fight with.

I move against his force that he's using to push me back. I block and attempt to strike, but he's too quick. Fighting him is just like I imagined it to be. Fast-paced, illogical, and absolutely, gloriously perfect.

Every move I make — every riposte and coupé — is blocked with alarming force. He attacks. Again and again and again and again. And I attack. Again and again and again and again. But neither one of us is able to beat the other.

We fight for what feels like hours, but I know it can't be more than five minutes. I start to wear down after three, but I keep going. I will not lose my first fight after so long. After a while, I don't need to focus on which move I make. It all comes back naturally to me.

Now I'm able to focus on my opponent. My opponent who just happens to be gorgeous, I notice. It takes me a while to realize I just thought that, but when it actually comes down to it, he really is. His hair is messy in a roguish but handsome sort of manner. His skin is slightly pale, but not porcelain. His eyes, though I've already mentioned strangely white, have a sort of mysterious look in them. He's tall, maybe almost six foot, and skinny but in a more lean kind of way.

He notices me staring as we fight. "Why… are you looking at me like that?"

I blush deeply, mentally cursing the bright lights. "I was just, uh…" I wrack my brain, searching for an answer.

He laughs at my dilemma. "It's alright, really," he says, shaking his head.

I blush again. God, I feel like such a teenager. It was bad enough with _him._ The non-stop blushing, the stuttering, the butterflies in my stomach. I had all of it. But it wasn't even real.

I focus on the sound of the clashing blades as we spar. I focus on his movement — flawless and unpredictable — making sure to keep a very close eye on every move he makes. Every so perfectly dangerous move.

Our blades clash at lightning-paced speed. Before I even realize it, we're onto the next round of blocking and defense.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And then, something unimaginable happens:

James drops his sword.

But then I realize that he hasn't dropped his sword.

I took it from him.

* * *

We're breathless for what seems like forever. He stares at me, and I stare back, both his and my own sword clutched in my right hand. Sweat pours down my neck as his white eyes glare at me wordlessly.

"I knew it," he whispers at last.

I raise an eyebrow. "Knew what?"

James moves toward me and holds me in place by my shoulders. "I know who you are, Corinne."

My first option is to run, to suddenly vanish from France with no sign of ever being seen again.

My second option is to kill him and bury him somewhere far, far away.

My third is to stand here and deny whatever he thinks.

I choose option three. It's probably the easiest one.

"What are you talking about?" I say, almost convincingly. Almost. God, I need to work on my lying.

He folds his arms across his chest. "Don't play dumb, Corinne. I know who you are."

I roll my eyes. "Come on. Who are you talking about?" A lump starts to gather in my throat and my hands start to shake.

He sighs, looking away from me. "Corinne D'Artagnan. She was an elite member of the Musketeer of the Guard back eight years ago before she was banished for treason."

I stare at him directly in the eye. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!" he shouts. "You do know who I'm talking about! She's you, Corinne! I know she's you!" The intensity in his eyes as he speaks is sincere—albeit a little intimidating. He must really believe this.

I shake my head and take a step back. "You're crazy. I'm not Corinne. I thought she died." I gasp and smack my hand over my mouth, but he doesn't seem to notice my blunder.

James sits on a bench and puts his face in his hands. "She did, or, I guess, they said she did. Who knows?" He looks up at me. "But you look just like her, you fight just like her."

I wrap my arms around myself, looking away from him. "She was a blonde," I whisper.

Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders. "Please. Tell me who you are."

I sigh. He already knows who I am. What's the point in hiding anymore? "If I was Corinne, you would just throw me in the dungeon."

His fingers tighten around my shoulders. "No, I wouldn't," he whispers into my ear. "I promise you I would never. I'm not like them."

My breathing hitches for a moment. "Why is it so important to you?"

His lips brush my ear as he says, "Because I need your help."

My head spins. I can't believe I just said so many revealing things, but the funny thing is that I don't feel a twinge of regret. If anything, I'm relieved.

"With what?" I ask with a shaky breath.

He smiles and leads me to the bench. "I'm assuming you don't know every detail about me. If you did I suspect you'd run off by now, and I don't blame you if you do once I tell you." I raise an eyebrow, but he continues. "My name is James Edward Andrew Baudin." He ignores my gasp. "My father is Captain Baudin, but I'm sure you've made the connection by now."

Fear rips through me like a bullet. "B-baudin?" I stutter. "You're a Baudin?" I stand and start backing away from him.

This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening to me. Why am I such a magnet for the wrong people?

He shoots up off the bench. "Please, Corinne. Don't go. I've already told you that I would never intentionally hurt you."

"How can I trust you?" I say nearly with venom in my voice.

James takes one of my hands and laces his fingers through mine. He sets his forehead on my shoulder. "Please. I want out of this."

I glance at him awkwardly. "Out of what? What are you talking about?"

He moves his head to the side, so his nose brushes my neck. "My father wants me to take over once he's done as captain, and I don't want it."

"How am I supposed to help that?" I ask.

James shakes his head. "You don't understand." He looks away for a moment and then stares back at me. "I don't want to evade my position as captain, I want to rid the Black Cobras of my father altogether."

I try not to look surprised but fail entirely. Of all the people there was in this city, I, of course, chose the one that was a rebel. Just how lucky could I possibly be? Not much.

I blink, and he waits for me to answer. I purposely don't for a while. "Really?" I finally say. "You're kidding, right?"

James furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "No," he says, staring at me. "No, I'm not."

"Oh," I whisper.

"So will you help me?" he asks.

I sigh sadly. "James, I… I don't know. I can't risk being caught. I will be killed if I am. I'm already on somebody's hit-list as it is."

He squeezes my hands. "I will protect you. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

I nod my head. "I suppose I will try to help, but it depends on what you want me to do."

James leads me back over to the bench, and we sit at once. "First, I need you to tell me about how you became a Musketeer. There are many rumors and stories, but only you and your other three comrades know the whole truth."

And _him_ , I think.

I nod. "It's… not that interesting. You must have heard the story somewhat correctly."

James shakes his head. "No. I want to hear it from your account."

The memories whip through my head like a hurricane. Every memory there was. Every good one, every bad one, and every memory that I thought was good but turned out to be bad because of _him_. It all came, and it hurt so much. It hurt that almost everything was a lie.

But I start telling him all I remember, making sure to leave out my first—God, I can't even say that word anymore—relationship. It all came flooding out of my mouth before I could stop it, not that I wanted to. It felt good to say what I've been holding in for so long, even if who I'm tell this to is practically a stranger. And once I'm done I feel a strange weight lifted off my chest.

He stares at me with a blank look on his face. Finally, he says, "Wow…"

I raise an eyebrow defensively. "What? You said you wanted the whole story, and I gave it to you."

James shakes his head. "No, it's not that. It's just… it's so different from what my father told us."

"What did your father tell you?"

He sighs. "He… he said you became musketeers by putting an innocent man in the dungeon and killing countless others. He said you put the king under some spell, so he'd do what you want." He shakes his head. "I never believed any of it. And now I'm glad that I didn't."

I stand up and start pacing. "He's spreading all these lies about us? Philippe is not innocent. He tried to kill the king! And I never killed anyone. Maimed, yes. But I never killed a human being!"

"I know."

I stand right in front of him, staring into his white eyes. "How would you know?"

James stands in front of me. "Corinne, I did research on you. I talked to former musketeers. They all said you were crazy and stubborn, but they also said you'd never hurt an innocent person or kill someone who wasn't."

I blink in surprise. "But… everyone was supposed to think that I tried to kill the king. Why would they still believe that?"

"I asked them that, too. They all said that one of your female comrades—I can't remember her name—was telling everyone about your false banishment."

"Renée," I breathe.

He nods. "Yeah, that's her."

I suddenly can't breathe. I grab onto his vest. "Do you know what happened to her? Do you know where she is?"

James shakes his head sadly. "No. Nobody's seen her for years."

I let go of him. "Why would she risk herself for me?"

He smiles, staring down at me. "In case you haven't noticed, a lot of people seem to care about you."

I sigh and sit down again. "Yeah, right."

He kneels and lifts my chin. "Corinne, I'm serious. Did you know there was nearly a riot on the day you were announced dead. Paris was in unrest from the moment they found out you were gone. They're still not completely well."

Tears start to fill my eyes. "W-what about" —I try not to choke— "the king. What did he do?"

James shrugs. "Mostly ignored it." He moves and sits next to me. "I remember when I was younger, and how the king was happy. He would blow up that odd contraption thing—"

"Balloon," I whisper.

"—and fly on it all the time. After you left, he just stopped. Everything stopped. Balls, celebrations, everything." He sighs. "I had seen him when you were here. I remember it vividly. He would smile, and laugh, and… he was just happy. And then I saw him years later when I became a cobra." James rubs the back of his neck and turns to me. "It's like he was a different person. He was emotionless, like there was nothing in this world he cared about. He's still like that, I hear."

I wrap my arms around myself as I hear this. "Why would I care about this?"

He shrugs. "I just thought you'd like to know."

Would I like to know? No. Hell no. If I had the option, I'd block out from ever hearing his name again.

"Thanks," I whisper anyway. "Do you think we could talk about something else, though. It's getting kind of depressing."

James laughs. "Fine. How about how old you are?"

I pretend to gasp. "Don't you know that that is something you never ask a woman? That and her weight."

"Fine, then. How much do you weigh?"

I smack his arm. "I'm am nine-and-twenty, thank you very much. What about you?"

He smiles. "Seven-and-twenty."

I narrow my eyebrows. "Really? You've got to be kidding."

"What?" he asks.

"You look much younger than that," I say with a laugh.

He scoffs. "Well, you look much older than nine-and-twenty."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do I?"

He laughs. "No." And then he says, "I know I look pretty young still, but that's how I've always been."

"Hm," I muse.

James shakes his head, seeming to change the subject. "Anyway, will you help me?"

I ponder that for a moment. Should I? Probably not. Will I? Yes, probably. I already promised, and I can't back out now. Besides, I kind of want to get rid of this Baudin guy.

* * *

 **(A/N: Hello, guys! It feels so long since I've posted an update! Ugh. I'm pretty close to getting chapter eight done! In case you can't tell, this is going to be longer than hopefully any of my other stories. The New Girl was 18 chapters, but they were all pretty short. This Life Ahead of Me had nine longer chapters, but still not as long as this one. I will tell you I probably won't be done by the time I start school again. Oh, yeah. And I have no outline. Outlines have never really worked for me, so I'm just playing this in my head. But I do have the next few chapters planned out, and I know how it's going to end. Hee.**

 **Oh, and funny story. So, my friend and I were talking about Barbie 3 Musk, and we were just being stupid and talking about Louis. I asked her if he looked a little weird to her, and she said, "Yeah, I think it's because he has that coconut hair." And OMG I literally lost it. That will be an inside joke forever. :D I will never look at Louis the same way again.**

 **Anyway, replies:**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Hmm. Do you like him? I won't say anything, but he is very important.**

 **Turquisea: FUDGE. FUDGE FUDGE FUDGE. Like, are you serious?! You want to do covers for my stories?! Honor for you? That's like a huge honor for me! YYYYYEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!**

 **Haha. I just had to reply to the last sentence first. And now: Yikes. I really hope no one stabbed you. Lol. Ugh. A couple weeks ago I had to make my own iron-on t-shirt, and I was so afraid of that iron. My parents broke my trying to make me afraid of dangerous things when I was little. :P I couldn't plug the vacuum in without being afraid of being electrocuted.**

 **Nope. It's not bad at all, but you might want to wear some gloves later in this story because you'll be holding on tight. ;) I'm evil. I'll tell you where Louis is! Later. Just wait. And MAYBE I will allow Corinne to kick him. MAYBE. Ooh ooh ooh. Yes. Just love James so much. He is just… *Happy sigh* But, yes, do be very cautious. You never know what I'll do. Writing something well takes practice, Grammar Girl, and Writer's' Digest.**

 **Thanks so much for reviewing! Wow, this is really long. :D**

 **Sophhascoconuts: Actually, I'm honestly not sure if Viv or Re will return. I'm still debating that. Well, you want more? That's the point of these cliffies. Yassssss. They're working. As for James, I was thinking of more like Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender. She has an outline of eyes, but they're white-ish-clear-ish.**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Oh, no! I'm so sorry that you couldn't finish pirates, but, hey, the point of this story is to get you like that. :) I wanted to scream for a while, too. Angriness is a side-effect of this story. As is confusion. Okay, I'll stop now. I'll try to clear up everything later in the future. And, OMG, that is a great idea. I may have to use that. :)**

 **Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! They're awesome. It's what keeps me going!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	7. Enemy Territory

I'm running in a field. I don't know where I am or how I got here, but at the moment, I don't care. The wind whips my hair across my face, and I try to push it back, but someone beats me to it. I look over and see James next to me, his hand clasped in my own.

We stop running and face each other. James's face lights up in the light of a newly-risen sun. He looks utterly gorgeous. His white eyes stare back at me as he wraps his arms around me. He leans in closer, and I find that I do the same. The wind stops blowing. I close my eyes.

Our lips are just inches apart when he stops and sets his forehead on mine.

"I love you. Always remember that."

I snap my eyes open at the sound of those all-too-familiar words and see what could only occur in a nightmare:

It's not James who holds me anymore.

It's him. It's _him._ It's Louis.

* * *

I gasp and accidentally roll right out of the bed. It takes me a minute to realize what exactly just happened. I sit up on the floor and bring my knees to my chest. I don't even realize that I'm crying until I bring my hand up to my face and it comes off wet. I don't try to stop the tears from coming because I know it's no use.

God, I hate this. I hate not being able to control my emotions. I hate being here. I hate being broken. I hate the Black Cobras. I hate Captain Baudin. I hate Tréville for getting old. I hate the Red Cobras. I hate the musketeers who allowed this to happen. I hate Aramina for being so kind to me. I hate James for trying to fix me. I hate Louis for breaking me.

But most of all, I hate myself for allowing him to break me. I hate myself for letting my guard down and thinking he loves me. I hate myself for ever thinking that someone of his nobility could ever truly love me. I hate myself for being played. I hate myself for being stupid. I hate myself for being such an easy target. I hate myself for wanting all those days of balloon rides and false "I love you's" back. I hate myself for ever wanting to become a musketeer. Maybe if I hadn't, I would still be happy.

I didn't realize I was crying so loudly until Aramina came through the door and rushed to my side. "Corinne, honey, what's wrong?"

I gasp and shake my head. "It's nothing. Go back to bed."

She wraps an arm around me and pulls me toward her. "Obviously it's not nothing. Come on, Corinne. Tell me what's wrong."

I sigh and try to wipe away my tears. "I had a dream."

She nods and squeezes me tighter. "What was it about," she whispers.

"I was running in a field…" I tell her the story in full, not bothering to leave anything out. What's the point anymore?

When I'm done she says nothing except "I'm sorry."

By morning we forget about what happened last night. That, or Aramina shows me mercy by not mentioning it.

* * *

I go out again at three to watch the fighting. It's hotter than usual today, I realize. Sweat pours down the back of my neck as I walk through the crowded streets, but it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Heat was never my friend—it was always the thing I dreaded most in the world. But I guess after I was banished, I realized what really was the worst thing.

I sit on my bench and wait. James is fighting today, and he couldn't get out of it because, apparently, Black Cobras were required to fight on their assigned days. The Musketeers were never actually allowed to fight for entertainment—and it annoyed the hell out of me—so I tracked down the ones who still did it and threw them in the dungeon for a day. No one tried street-fighting again after that, but I have a feeling they were more afraid of me than they were of the dungeon.

The crowd explodes in cheers suddenly, so I look up to see what all the commotion is. I see James walk onto the square, sporting his white fencing suit and helmet tucked under his arm. My face immediately lights up, and he looks over to me and winks. I blush and look down at my feet.

His opponent—a short, stout sort of fellow—steps onto the mat after James, wearing the same suit as his. They both get situated in their positions, and the refs call out the countdown. I don't get the point of these matches. We already know who's going to win.

And before I can blink, and literally a half a second after the ref says, "Allez," James has already claimed his opponent's sword. I don't bother looking surprised anymore. After a while of this, it was pretty much certain to happen in James's favor.

He whips off his helmet and walks over to me with a huge smile on his face. "Hey, Cor," he says.

I gasp. "Sh!"

He laughs. "Oh, come on! Don't be so uptight! People can't even hear us."

I roll my eyes. "Famous last words," I mutter.

He laughs again and nudges me as we sit down on the bench. "Aren't you hot in that?" I ask.

James shrugs. "You get used to it."

I nod and sit uncomfortably next to him. The minutes seem to drag on in utter silence. Then I hear him curse under his breath and stand quickly. I stare at him in confusion and stand with him.

He lets out a little shriek. "Oh, dear God, my father."

My eyes widen. "Oh, uh, should I go, then?"

He sighs. "No, no. He's already seen you. Just act natural and don't give him any hints about your identity. Okay?"

I nod quickly. A few seconds later I hear a voice. "James!" it calls. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but it almost sounds menacing. "What are you doing over there?" A man appears on James's side, and I avert my eyes.

"Uh, I'm sorry father. I was just—"

"And who is this?" I see him take a step in front of me.

James lifts his hand up. "Oh, Marie, this is my father, Captain Baudin. Father, this is Marie."

I curtsy. "It's very nice to meet you, Captain." I still don't look into his eyes.

He nods at me, then, thankfully, turns back to his son. "James, why haven't you told me you've met such a beautiful young woman?"

I blush. James lets out a dry chuckle. "Oh, uh, we're—"

The captain turns to me. "Oh, my dear, you must come for dinner. My wife will have the cooks make something spectacular. They are the finest in Paris, besides the palace's, of course."

I smile weakly. "Oh, I don't want to burden your chefs to any extra—"

"Nonsense! The chefs would love to hear of another guest! As would I and my wife. Please, you simply can't refuse my offer. I will not hear of it."

I bite my lip and glance at James for help. He just shrugs, and then I know I'm not getting out of this. "Alright, I suppose. I'll have to talk to the woman I am staying with, and—"

Captain Baudin claps his hands. "Wonderful! It's settled, then. Our carriage will pick you up at 5:30 sharp. Please be ready. Oh, where do you live, dear?"

I look at James for help. "I know, father," he answers for me. "I'll tell the footmen."

The captain nods. "Very well then. James, escort the lady home and come back to my office please. I have a few things to discuss." He turns to me. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Madame." He bows and kisses my hand. One swift pat on the back to his son later, he's gone, and I can finally breathe properly.

"That," I say, "was your father?"

He sighs. "Sadly, yes. I know he seems nice, but he's always like that with strangers. Only those closest to him sees what he's really like."

I sigh and nod my head. "I understand." And I mean that all too well.

* * *

"Baudin!" Aramina shouts. "He's a Baudin? How could that be?"

I shrug. "I guess I'm not the best at character judgement."

"I'll say," she mutters. "So, what, now are you going to tell me you're going over and having a slumber party with the guy?"

I blush. "Well, it's not exactly a slumber party."

Aramina's jaw literally falls open. "You mean you—" she gasps. "Oh, God. What is wrong with you?"

"James promised me he would protect me, and it's not like I could say no."

She looks at me in disbelief. "Like this: n-o!"

"I could barely get a word in as it was. It wasn't intentional. And, besides," I say, smirking, "it's a good opportunity to get some information."

Aramina groans. "So, what do you want me to do?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "One thing." My mouth curls in disgust. "I need a dress."

* * *

My teeth chatter as I wait outside the entrance of Aramina's apartment building. It's not cold, but it might as well be with the way I feel right about now. Maybe a bit like throwing up. I wish I had the flu. It'd be easier to get out of this dinner if I did. But, obviously, that's not going to happen. I only have so much luck.

I check the clock on the building across from me. It's 5:26 as far as I can tell. I can only assume that the Baudin carriage will arrive at the exact time it was told. I always forget the inane punctuality of nobles.

5:27. 5:28. 5:29.

The clock seems as if it's taunting me. Each second that passes, each terribly annoying tick, reminds me that my time on this earth is limited. Whether I die a natural death or am murdered by an assassin group that works for some psychopath who wants me dead, I'm going to die eventually. I try not to worry about it too much, but death is just one of those inevitable things that you can't help but think about.

The clip-clops of hooves draw back my attention to the carriage moving toward me. I straighten up and curtsy to the driver as he opens the carriage door. I climb in and feel the carriage swiftly move as soon as I'm seated.

"What a rush," I mutter.

The ride to the Baudin residence is shorter than I would have liked it to be. I was hoping for some time to figure out what I would say to so many personal questions they would no doubt ask me. So far… I've got nothing.

I look out the window as we turn right from a fork in the street and down a private, paved road. On either side of the road are beautiful flower beds each filled with more exotic types than possibly the palace. Marble statues of lions guard the golden front gate entrance. Four guards—all dressed in black, of course—stand alert. The gate is opened and the carriage continues down the long stretch of pavement.

The carriage stops at the front entrance of the huge manor. My hands shake as the carriage door opens, and the footman lends me his hand as I step down the carriage steps. As soon as my foot touches the ground, a pair of familiar hands is at my side.

"James!" I gasp and wrap my arms around him.

He laughs in surprise. "Hey, Marie. You look beautiful."

I smile. I knew that. Aramina sure did outdo herself finding this dress. It's store-bought that she had bought in England when she visited Elijah's parents. The white skirt is layered by a long, deep red blouse that hugs me tightly in the waist.

He pulls back, winks, then pulls at my hand. "Come on. We've better get in before my father comes out here raging."

I laugh and follow him through the door. The inside of the house is even more beautiful than the outside. I recognize the artist of several art pieces from hundreds of years ago. The ceiling sports a painting of gold angels dozens of feet from the floor. Everywhere is bright with gold molding and white paint.

I had never been to Tréville's home before, but I already know for a fact that this was more than he had. This had to have been passed down through several generations.

"It was built by my great-great-great-great grandfather," James says. I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs. "You were talking out loud, you know."

I blush. "Oh, was I? Sorry, I was being rude."

James laughs again. "No, it's fine, really."

We walk in silence for a few minutes until he stops when we reach a doorway. He gestures for me to enter. Inside is three women and James's father sitting in a parlor. When he sees me, Captain Baudin stands and walks over to us.

He bows, and I curtsy. "Madame, it is a pleasure to have you."

I smile. "It's a pleasure to be here."

Baudin turns to the first woman—a fair-skinned brunette— sitting on a chair. She rises as his hand touches her back. "This is my wife, Lady Eleanor." We both curtsy. The other two girls—both identical brunettes—show up behind her. "And these are my twin daughters, Caroline and Catherine." We curtsy. "I have another daughter, but she's late," —he sighs deeply— "as always."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I say.

James smiles again. "So, uh, why don't we move into the dining hall while we wait for Emily, shall we?"

Captain Baudin nods in consent, and we all move silently, me never leaving James's side. The dining hall is large enough for several hundred guests, but we only use a small table, enough to seat everyone present.

James pulls out a chair for me, and I gladly oblige, just praying to get relief from these shoes. Soup was served first. God, it reminded me of the palace so much. I would help Madame Hélène cook during big celebrations. I have to admit, I became quite the chef there for a while.

After the soup, salad with raspberry vinaigrette is served. I start to wonder if this mysterious sister is ever going to show, and, coincidentally, Captain Baudin calls over a butler and says, "Please go up to Emily's room and call her to din—"

As if by answering his question a big thump echoes throughout the hall. Suddenly, I see a big whip of raven-black hair—exactly the color of James's, I realize—running down the stairs. "I'm sorry I'm late, father!" a young girl calls about halfway down. " I got caught up in my studying again, and I—"

"Emily, hush," Baudin says. "We have a guest."

As if now aware of my presence, the girl gasps and runs over to me. I stand quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry!" She grabs my hand and starts shaking it. "You must be Marie! My brother won't shut up about you."

A hiss comes from the chair next to mine. "Shut it, Emily!" James growls.

I blush. "It's nice to meet you..." And that's when I really took a look at her face. I know this girl, I realize. How could I forget her? She's the one who took down that huge Red Cobra singlehandedly.

Her smile snaps me back into reality. "Well, I suppose I should eat now. Enjoy your meal!"

I nod, and then she's gone, practically prancing back to her own chair. I shake my head, trying to clear out this confusion. James notices me. "Are you alright?" he whispers.

I look down at my plate that's being exchanged with the main course. "Just wondering how you're related to everyone."

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

I sigh. "I know your little sister."

"Emily?" he asks. I nod.

He's about to reply when I hear a very feminine voice call my name. "Marie, will you be coming to the ball?" Lady Eleanor asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Ball?"

She gasps. "James hasn't invited you? How rude!" She turns to him. "Darling, tell her!"

James groans. "Mother, no!"

Lady Eleanor shakes her head in defeat. "James's birthday is the day after the next."

I look at him. "Is this true?"

He doesn't answer, and Lady Eleanor goes on. "We're having a ball here in his honor."

James sighs. "Really, mother? Why do I need another ball? I'm seven-and-twenty."

Lady Eleanor rolls her eyes. "That's exactly why, James. You're getting too old. You must marry soon."

He scowls. "Can't you focus on your daughters?"

She shakes her head. "Oh, come now, darling. You're my only son. And your sisters are too young."

James turns away from her. "Better get an early start." He points at Emily. "Good luck matching her up."

Lady Eleanor gasps, throws her napkin on her plate, and swiftly leaves the room, saying, "You better invite that girl of yours, James! I will not hear of her not being there! Do you understand me, young man?"

"Yes, mother," he mutters.

* * *

After dinner and a short time inside the parlor, James slowly walks me out of his home. I can tell he's taking his time, and I don't mind.

"Today was really fun," I say. "I haven't been with that many people in a long time."

He smiles. "Even though you were in my father's evil lair?"

I nudge him with my elbow. "Oh, this is not an evil lair by any stretch. I would say it's the beautiful land outside the dark, demonic castle."

James laughs. I enjoy that he does it so much, I realize. "Indeed." We're silent for a few minutes before he asks, "So, will you come to the ball?"

We're outside now, I notice suddenly. "I thought you didn't want a ball."

He shrugs. "I don't, but if there has to be one, I would much rather have you there."

Heat slowly crawls up to my cheeks. "I-I see. Well, uh, sure. Yeah, I'll go."

He smiles again, but somehow this seems more special than the other ones he gives on a daily basis. The carriage appears in front of us, so we slowly walk down his granite steps, relishing the time it takes us.

I step up onto the step of the carriage, and he gives me his hand. I study his face for a moment and shake my head. As I turn away, I feel his lips upon my cheek. Even though it was only for a second, I feel the warmth as soon as he's pulled away.

"Goodnight, Corinne," he whispers.

And this time I don't care that he's used my given name. For now, everything is just absolutely perfect.

* * *

 **(A/N: Hey, everybody! This is one of my favorite chapters! But, the next one may top this! *Whisper* It's the ball. *Squeals* I can't wait. Okay. There will not be an update next week. I'm going on vacation, and I may not be able to find the time to update. Plus, it'll give me time to catch up on my chapters. Anyway, how much do you love James? Huh, huh? Based on the comments I'm seeing, it seems almost to be split between traitor and Jarinne (kudos to Turquisea for the ship name. I've been trying to make one, but have failed drastically). I love the comments, guys!**

 **Replies:**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Like I said, she always gets the "greatest" ideas around midnight. And, yeah, you can't judge her too harshly. :D But, you know, we always knew Louis and Corinne would end up together in your fic. You won't pull what Christine did to Erik. :'( :D**

 **Turquisea: Hee hee. He is a cute little puppy kitten, ain't he? You can't have him, though. He's Corinne's! Corinne always gets the best guys… AND NO I WON'T STOP YOU FROM SHIPPING THESE TWO! They're too cute to be not shipped by you! :P And OMG I can't wait to see the thingy! Hee. Take your time, though. NO RUSH! Louis deserves everything Corinne throws at him, and I will make sure that's a lot...**

 **PrincessGeekelle: EEEEP. I KNOW, RIGHT? As Turquisea said, he is a "cute little puppy kitten."**

 **IcyFairy: I don't know? What do you think?**

 **Esmee-lynn: *Whistles* Wwwwwwooooooooooooowwwwwww. That's… that's just. Wow. Thanks so much! And, I don't blame you about not commenting. It's hard for me to keep up with all my stories, but I still read them. :) Really? You think so? When I write this, I like to keep it in line with the movie, but I also don't want it to be like some regular old boring thing that you've seen over and over. I don't feel like I write for Barbie, really. It just seems like… something original, I guess. I, in all honesty, don't care about being completely in character. Corinne's changed and matured drastically,and so has everyone else, but I do want to keep certain aspects of her personality intact. And, I said a while ago in my comments that I really always misused Aramina in the past. I never really thought about how good of a character she could be.**

 **I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but one of the main goals of this story is to make the biggest love triangle any of you have ever seen in this fandom.**

 **Again, thank you so much!**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, guys! You're awesome!**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	8. The Return of Lady Barbecue

I have the dream again. Every detail is the same. I'm running in a field. James holds me. And then... he doesn't. The only difference is that when I wake up, I don't sob myself back to sleep. I guess I've nearly come to a truce with my emotions. I really hope James can fix this broken part of me, but I know I can never truly be healed from the pain this has caused me.

But maybe just mended.

* * *

Aramina says nothing after I retell my tale, but I can definitely tell she doesn't approve of me going back to the Baudin residence. I wouldn't if I had the choice, but in all honesty, there is a small part of me that does want to go. That stupid, irresponsible, reckless part that always gets me in trouble. The part that always gets its way.

Aramina stares at me with no hint of emotion in her face. "What?" I ask.

She lets out a deep breath. "You are the most insane person I've ever met."

"You're just now figuring that out?"

She laughs. "No, I've known that for a long time. But, anyway, what do you want?"

I raise an eyebrow. "How would you know I want something?"

"Come on, Corinne. You're going to a ball! You're going to need _something_. _Something_ very important. _Something_ that you wear to a dance. _Something_ —"

I groan. "Ugh, fine! I need another dress."

Aramina stands from her spot, walks to the kitchen, and then shuffles through a pile of paper. She hands me a flier of a boutique. "This was one of Viveca's friends. She makes the most gorgeous gowns."

I shake my head. "I don't have any money, Aramina."

She crosses one leg over the other. "Oh, nonsense! She knows me, and I'm sure she'll give you a discount."

I smile and wrap one arm around her. "What would I do without you?"

She giggles. "You'd probably still be lying dead in an alley right about now. That, or already six feet under in an unmarked grave."

I scowl. "Thanks for that image."

* * *

As the universe would have it, Valerie Charbonneau turned out to be Viveca's half-sister, and, also as the universe would have it, she gave the dress to me for free. But I did see Aramina slip her the money under the table. Gotta love that good 'ol redhead.

The carriage comes down the street the second the clock strikes 6:00. My hands start to shake again, but I quickly tell myself to stop. They have no idea who I am. That's what I keep telling myself. They don't know who I am. They don't know who I am. They don't know who I am.

The carriage stops in front of me, and the footman opens the door. Again, the ride is shorter than I would have liked, but it doesn't bother me as much anymore. As we turn onto the private road, I see that instead of the lone carriage that I'm riding in, there is a long line of the vehicles extending out from the front entrance.

I wait.

And wait.

Watching girls in pretty dresses.

And wait.

Watching men in their finest coats.

None of them appeal to me. At least none until my carriage is stopped, and I feel familiar hands helping me out of the it.

"James." I giggle. God, I _giggle_.

"Sh!" he whispers, a smile on his face. "I'm not supposed to see anyone yet."

I lock my mouth and throw away the key. He smiles, gently squeezes my hand, and runs back inside. I bite my lip to force the damn giggles back where they came from. It only partly works.

I move inside with the steady flow of people that move into the ballroom. I haven't been to a ball since a couple months before I was banished. It still feels so new to me, this being out with actual people and having to talk and actually socialize. It's daunting, but I never realized how much I missed it.

"Lady Kingstrom, of Bordeaux!" someone shouts.

Before I realize it, I'm stepping into the ballroom. The absolutely gorgeous ballroom, I might add. Marble floors, artisan molding. I feel bad for the maids just looking at it.

I approach the staircase leading down to the main floor, and I finally see the man announcing everyone's names. I smile as I remember my first ball. That was a wonderful night. All the dancing and fighting and…

I shake my head, dismissing the thoughts to be and focus as the line to the staircase becomes shorter and shorter.

"Isabel de Chanel, of Artois!" the announcer calls again for the blond girl in front of me. She walks down the stairs, and then it's my turn.

I whisper the name into his ear. He looks at me curiously for a moment but dismisses the thought. "Lady Barbecue, of Gascony!"

I smile brightly and walk down the stairs with pristine grace. Everyone's eyes turn to me, but I'm not sure if it's my name or my absolutely gorgeous dress. It's red again, but dark red this time. It's taffeta fabric with silver rhinestone applique across the front of my torso. A sash of silk is pinned from hip-to-hip and the rest falls down my left side. I don't even want to know how much Aramina paid for this.

The stares don't waver as I walk across the ballroom to the hors d'oeuvres. Food has always been my guilty pleasure at balls because that's when the chefs are at their finest. I'm halfway through a crêpe when I hear the announcer I tuned out chime through my ears again.

"May I present, Lady Eleanor and Captain Baudin of the Black Cobras." They both walk down the stairs, Lady Eleanor wearing an elegant forest green. "And Madame Catherine Baudin and Madame Caroline Baudin!" The twins walk down the stairs, their arms linked together, both wearing identical purple dresses.

They all start going around and greeting guests as soon as they step onto the floor. I throw my crêpe out and try to look as presentable as possible. I don't know why their opinion matter so much to me. I keep forgetting that Captain Baudin is practically enemy number one.

It's probably 30 minutes later by the time the Baudins get to me.

"Marie!" Captain Baudin says and kisses my hand. "How wonderful to see you again!"

I curtsy. "Likewise, Captain."

"Oh, darling, what was the 'Lady Barbecue' all about, exactly?"

I blush. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just an inside joke."

He laughs. "Oh, it's alright. No harm done. Anyway, enjoy the rest of your night. I believe James will be down soon."

I nod my head. "Thank you so much, Captain."

He smiles. "Thank you as well. I've never seen my son so happy in all his life as he is now."

I look at him curiously for a moment, but a few seconds later, they're all gone. I sigh. Damn captain's messing with my head. But he was right. Not three minutes later, I see James walk into view on the stairs with his other sister on his arm.

"And," the announcer says loudly, "Second-in-command of the Black Cobras, James Baudin, and his sister Madame Emily Baudin!"

They both walk down slowly. Even from my position in the very back of the room, I can see his eyes search the crowd. When they finally stop, I realize it's on me. His faint smile grows wider as he sees my face.

"And now we will have the traditional waltz of celebration!" the announcer shouts.

James lets go of Emily, whispers something into her ear, and kisses her cheek. His eyes never waver from mine as he makes his way over to me, people clearing a path for his focused stride. James stops right in front of me. He bows and puts out his hand.

"Would you do me the honor of allowing me the first dance?" he asks.

"Uh, sure," I say by accident. Painful memories come flooding back, but I push them away. That's not what this night is about.

He leads me to the center of the ballroom. For a while, the only dance I knew was the Prince's Sword Dance, but after a while—with the help of Aramina—I became quite the distinguished dancer. We get into position, and the music begins. I can tell that he's had lessons as soon as we start. I should have known by the way he fights.

His gaze is still intent and unwavering from my eyes. I feel heat rising to my cheeks. "What?" I whisper.

The corners of his lips turn upwards. "I was just thinking how beautiful you are."

I nearly laugh in embarrassment. "There are plenty of women here that are much prettier than me," I say.

He shakes his head. "Not that kind of beauty." He smiles. "Don't get me wrong, you're gorgeous." I press my lips together, shaking my head. "But I mean you're so, so beautiful inside your heart."

I frown, looking down at my feet. "I think you're mistaken. My heart is full of darkness and hatred."

He spins me for a second, and then pulls me closer. "No, I assure you it's not. Your heart is filled with kindness and humility and grace."

My eyes fill with tears. "How could you know that? Don't you think I know myself?"

James rests his cheek next to mine. "All you feel right now is the pain you felt when you were banished. That's not you, Corinne. I can see who you really are. I can see who that person was before that happened."

I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. We don't speak for a while after that. We just hold each other and move to the music.

How did I become so lucky as to meet James? What gave me the right to associate with such an amazing person? What did I do to deserve this? Absolutely nothing. But, yet, he's here, inside my arms, our cheeks pressed together. And suddenly I realize something. Something I never thought I could feel again.

I... l-love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I repeat it in my head until it doesn't seem so scary. And once I acknowledge this fact, there's this strange weight being lifted off my chest. I feel nervous and stupid and downright insane, but strangely happy. I guess I knew I did this entire time, but I just never wanted to believe it. I can't deny it anymore.

I love him.

I start to feel woozy, and I must show it a bit because James stops dancing. "Are you alright?" he asks. "Do you need to sit down?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm alright."

But I'm not alright.

I'm so much better than that.

* * *

James dances every dance with me. People stare at us, but I don't care. This night is more perfect than I ever could have hoped for. Now I'm just waiting for it to end. It has to, right? My luck has to be running out right about now. But maybe this isn't luck. Maybe this is fate.

The music changes often, but I can only tell by the way we dance. I can't hear anything around us. It's almost as if we're the only two people in this room—no, the only two people in the world. None of the hatred and darkness exists. Nothing exists except this moment.

But there's one question on my mind that manages to pry its way through during the sequence of my dreams. Does he return my feelings? I really must take that into consideration. If he doesn't then… what would that mean for me? Could I go on? I don't think I could handle being rejected again.

I look up into his eyes. He's squinting, as if in concentration, but I can sense the adoration coming from them. He must have feelings for me. He couldn't be faking. He just couldn't be. James knows how much I've been through these last eight years. He wouldn't be leading me on.

"What?" he says, just below a whisper.

I shake my head. "You're amazing," I answer.

He presses his lips together. "I highly doubt that."

I let out a small chuckle and set my forehead on his shoulder. We're close enough for this to be improper, but I don't care, and it seems neither does he. "I just… you are."

"Whatever you say," he whispers.

I suddenly look up at the time just as the dance ends. "Excuse me for a moment," I say. "I need to go freshen up."

He looks at me suspiciously. "You will come back, though, won't you?"

I squeeze his hand. "I promise I won't go 'Cinderella' on you. I'll be right back."

I let his hand go and walk from the center of the ballroom floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him take one of his sister's hands—either Catherine or Caroline, I'm not sure which—and leads her out for the next dance. I giggle quietly.

After asking a maid where the ladies' room is, I follow her directions down the west corridor hallway. I stop when I see two huge doors. _I must be in the wrong place_ , I think as I drag my fingers along the door. But my curiosity—and also the fact that it's near midnight, and I'm starting to do my insane "great ideas"—gets the best of me, so I listen for any noise coming from the inside of the room.

Nothing.

I kneel down to the floor and take a pin out of my hair. I snap it in half and bend one half at a 90-degree angle about two-thirds the way up. I look around to make sure no one is watching. Taking a breath, I put the bent part of the pin into the bottom part of the lock and the other half of the pin into the top. After wiggling it for a minute, I hear a quiet but clear _click,_ and I know that I've done it.

I slowly open the door. The room is, thankfully, completely vacant of people and is just being occupied by a desk and chairs. An office, I realize. This must be Captain Baudin's study. I did come here looking for information in the first place, but I guess I got a little side-tracked.

I walk over to the desk and start thumbing my way through the stacks of paper on his desk. Bills, checks, loans, settlements, but nothing that points him in any way trouble. I open one of the drawers, but there's still only those same things.

I fall back into Baudin's chair and slouch, muttering to myself. That's when I hear voices inside the hall. I gasp and shoot out of the chair and try to get the papers back the way I had come in. The door handle turns, and I gasp and look around. There's a closet to my left, so I quickly run inside and close the door.

The door to the study closes, and I hear a jumble of voices. "So, Felix," I hear a man that sounds strangely like Captain Baudin say, "have you completed your assignment yet?"

"No, sir," says the reply.

Baudin sighs. "Felix, Felix, Felix." His voice is dangerous. Like it's on the edge of throwing you off a cliff. "I have told you not to disappoint me."

"I know, sir," he says quickly, "and I promise we'll get her. There's no doubt."

 _Her_? Who could—

I hear glass shuffle against the table, and I freeze. An object thumps against the wall, and I will bet that it's Felix's head. "Oh, there should be no doubt because either you find and finish Corinne D'Artagnan once and for all, or I will find somebody who will."

Me? He's after me? Why would he be after me? I'm nobody. I haven't been anybody for eight years. I've been rejected by the king and no one will take me seriously. Does he believe I'm a threat? This makes no sense.

"Yes, sir," the voice squeaks out.

"And I do not give second chances."

There is silence for a moment, and then I hear the door open. "I must return to my son's ball before anyone notices I'm gone. You should leave."

There is no reply, and I hear the door being slammed shut. I wait a few minutes to make sure that Baudin isn't lingering anywhere, and I slowly open the closet. I take a deep breath as I step out of the closet. Freedom has never felt so good.

"What are you doing in here?"

I shriek at the voice, grab a letter opener off the desk, and point it at the person who spoke. Standing in front of me is Emily. I hadn't even noticed her absence from the ball.

"W-what are you d-doing here?" I stutter.

Her arms are folded across her chest. "I'm watching you break into my father's study and point a letter opener at me."

I look down and realize I'm still holding it in line with her throat. I drop it quickly on the desk. "I was lost," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "Mm-hm. Right. And you just happened to wander across a locked room and decide to pick the lock." She holds out my hair pins.

I blush. "I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone."

Emily raises an eyebrow. "Maybe, but you have to tell me something first."

"Anything," I say.

"You're not who you say you are, are you?" I barely shake my head. "Then tell me who you are," she says.

I wrap my arms around myself. "I can't."

Emily shrugs. "Okay." Then she shouts as loud as she can "DADDY!"

My eyes widen. "No, no. Please! I'll tell you!"

She smiles innocently. "Then you may go forth and do so."

I take a deep breath. "My name is…" I close my eyes. "My name is Corinne D'Artagnan."

She scoffs. "Knew that."

"You did?" I gasp.

"Sure. It was written all over you."

"Does your dad know?" I ask cautiously.

She shrugs. "Nah. He's not very perceptive."

I nod. "Well, uh, I need to get back to your brother."

Emily curtsies and walks past me and out the door. By the time I'm out in the hall, she's already gone.

It's easy to find my way back to the ball. I just listen for the sound of music and follow the paths of the unconscious drunks leading the way to the ballroom. James is waiting on the staircase for me.

"Are you alright?" he asks worriedly.

I nod. "Yes, of course. I just got a little lost."

He lets out a breath. "Okay, well, uh, they're about to start another song if you want to dance, or…" He trails off.

I smile. "That's fine. Let's go dance."

I take his hand, and he leads me back to the floor. We're just spinning and dancing and laughing for a few minutes until I see the announcer run up the stairs and face the crowd with undeniable sweat trailing down his face. The music stops abruptly. We stop dancing. Everyone stops dancing. I look at James to ask what's going on, but he looks as puzzled as I am.

And then the announcer shouts out the name I had forbid from ever entering my brain again.

"Presenting, His Royal Highness King Louis XIV of France!"

* * *

 **(A/N: IT HAPPENED! Corinne has professed her love for my cute little puppy kitten. (That totally is his name. I'm 100% serious.) A lot has happened in this chapter. Not to mention Louis is crashing the party! Woohoo! *Insert evil smirking face* Oh yeah.**

 **Oh, I decided to upload this chapter early since you didn't get an update last week. So sorry! But I got to go ziplining, so I don't feel too bad. :P**

 **Ooh! I've got news!**

 **After this story is finished, I will be publishing several oneshots from different characters from this story POVs.**

 **And, guys, in your reviews, could you put what team you're on? Like, you know ship teams. I need to get this tallied up. I'll tell you in the last chapter what I am and all the votes. ;D**

 **Teams:**

 **Team Louis**

 **Team James (or Team Cute Little Puppy Kitten)**

 **Team [Insert name here] (If it's this one, tell me who ASAP)**

 **Team Anyone-Corinne-ends-up-with-because-I-love-them-both-so-much**

 **Team Bitch-Corinne-don't-need-no-man-to-be-badass**

 **Hee… I like the last one.**

 **Whoops. This is getting too long.**

 **Replies:**

 **IcyFairy: OMG I'm so glad! Hee. Love triangles are very fun indeed.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Really. It's your choice. I won't be mad if you don't. Emily is ah-mah-zing. :D**

 **Esmee-Lynn: Really? Aw. You're so nice! I tried reading The Three Musketeers a while back, but it's hard for me to read the classics. I could barely make it through Pride and Prejudice! :) I have to admit, after you said it could be published if I changed the names if the character, I totally considered that for a moment. The greatest part of love triangles is that I can control everything about the ships! Choosing between James and Louis will be hard for me too. With other stories I've read, I've never wavered on who I like, but these are very different circumstances. As an author, I have to do the best thing for Corinne (or not, haha). Aramina is the epitome of awesomeness. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! You have no idea how much it means to me!**

 **Paris4eva: You are a smart cookie, aren't ya, dear reviewer? :D**

 **Turquisea: As I told Esmee-Lynn, Aramina is the epitome of awesomeness. You have no idea how long it took me to realize that you're talking about 1D. I was smacking my head. Haha. And you have permission to do so, Cap'n. *Salutes* Hee.**

 **Despicable Margo: Eeek! You're back! I missed you! :P You are absolutely correct. What he did to her is absolutely unforgivable. Maybe. *Evil smirk* *Sighs with you* I wish James were real. And was mine. Hee… :D**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Gursh, you people are smart. I bet you figured it out before I did because I was halfway through this chapter before I realized what was going to happen. Honestly, I have no idea how many chapters this story will be. I know how it's going to end, but I don't know when. Hopefully not for another 12. But that's a lot to ask, so… yeah.**

 **Thanks for reviewing, guys! I got 7 people! Woohoo! And don't forget to tell me your team!**

 **Weatherbug02**

 **P.S: I gave you a super long chap to make up for my tardiness, too :P).**


	9. When Hearts Break

I'm running before I realize it. My skirts are hitched up high and my heels clank loudly each time I take a step, but I don't care who's watching me. I can't speak. I can't breathe. I just need to get out of here, and I need to get out now. If I see him, if I see his face, I'll fall apart and never be able to be put back together.

But no matter how much my brain screams for me not to, right before I'm out of the room completely, I stop and look back at him. All I see is a glimpse of his chocolate-colored hair and his black and white suit before I'm gone.

The tears are flowing before I can even try to stop them. I'm barely able to make it out of the ballroom without sobbing. I run. I run to wherever will take me the farthest from _him_. Why did I ever get involved with this? Why did I allow this to happen to me? Why am I so weak? I'm weak, and broken, and crazed, and delusional. And it's all because I allowed him inside the walls I had built up. I won't… I can't let that happen to me again.

I'm stumbling through the halls until I come across a door that leads outside. Part of me hopes it's one of those doors that has no landing and leads directly down, so I can plunge to my death. I'm not that lucky. It leads out to a long balcony that stretches several meters on both sides. I slump down on the wall and let the sobs overtake me.

It's some twenty minutes later when I hear the balcony door click open. James steps out and kneels next to me. "Are you alright?" he whispers.

I barely shake my head, but he seems to notice and takes one of my hands into his own. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

I sniffle. "Me too."

James sits next to me, and I lean into his chest. Slow, silent tears stream down my face. His hands stroke the back of my head. "I'm getting the feeling that he was more than your king." I close my eyes, letting out a shallow breath, and nod. "So, were you lovers of some sort?"

I don't open my eyes as I say, "We were together, yes."

"You were still together when you were banished?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"And after?"

I clutch his shoulders. "I-I just… I don't know anymore."

James lets out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," I say.

He shakes his head. "If I hadn't brought you here then you wouldn't have seen him."

"Why is he here in the first place?" I ask, looking up at his face.

James looks up at the dark sky. "We only invite him out of formality." He looks down at me. "He's never shown up. Ever."

"Then why now?" I whisper to myself more than him.

He shrugs. "I have no idea. He hasn't gone to any parties, functions, or events ever since you left."

I try not to dwell on things anymore, but it's hard not to. All I've ever done for the past years is dwell on things. It's a hard habit to change.

But the way James holds me almost makes my mind run blank. I suddenly remember what I was thinking before _he_ came and ruined everything. I stand and lean against the balcony. "James," I whisper, "I need you."

He stands as well and wraps one of his arms around me. "Corinne, I will do whatever you need me to do to help you. You don't realize how much I care about you."

I let out a strangled little laugh. "I don't realize? No, I don't think you understand."

He moves his face closer to mine. "Then make me understand, Corinne. Do you care for me the same way as I do for you?"

"That depends on how much you care about me." I smile a very small bit.

I look into his eyes, and they bore into mine. His lips twitch into a smile. In my dreams I had always barely realized that our faces were moving closer together, but I'm all too aware as James moves closer.

His lips are suddenly pressed onto my forehead. "Do you care for me in this way?" he murmurs against my skin.

"No," I breathe, "more."

He moves his lips, never once leaving my skin, down to my cheek. "What about in this way?"

I slightly shake my head. "More."

I can feel his smile as he moves to my neck. "Do you care for me like this?"

I let out that strangled laugh again. "N-no, more."

His hands gently squeeze my arm. James's lips move up my chin, stopping at the corner of my mouth. "Do you care for me in this way?"

I pull away from him, smiling. "No, I definitely care for you more than that." I grab his shoulders and press my lips against his. I can feel his smile as I wrap my arms around his neck. James's fingertips brush away the hair falling into my eyes, and he gently strokes my cheeks.

We move in slow motion. At least, that's what it feels like. I can barely think. I can barely breathe. What time is it ? Is it morning or night? I can't tell anymore.

James suddenly pulls away, his arms grasping my shoulders. "I love you," he says breathlessly.

"Haven't we already cleared that?" I giggle.

He smiles. "I just wanted to say it."

I wrap my arms around him. "I love you," I say back. God, this feels so good.

"But haven't we already cleared this up?" he asks, smirking.

I shake my head and quickly kiss him again. "Not enough."

* * *

I didn't leave until well after His Highness did. I couldn't take even seeing a glimpse of him after the incredibly perfect moment James and I had.

Aramina had asked how the ball went, but I was too happy to relive the horrendous details. I told her I was tired and would tell her in the morning. I ended up just lying in bed, giggling like a complete idiot. But the thing was, I didn't care. Everything was just too perfect to worry about such trivial things.

Now, as I lay in my bed in the early light of the morning, I think of the three things I know for sure:

One, Captain Baudin wants me dead.

Two, he will do anything to do it.

And three, James will do anything to stop him.

He had told me so as I was retelling what I heard in his father's office. And he wasn't surprised that Emily had been there. She had earned the reputation of quite a sneaky child over the years, and it only escalated when she had learned of James's pending betrayal to their father.

"She doesn't believe that men should be held at a higher regard than women," he had said. "I do agree with her, and I'll help her when I can, but right now I'm focused on trying to remove my father from his position of authority."

As much as I would love to see females take down men again, we have to get Baudin out first. Without him, there is a higher possibility of getting the equal rights we want. All we would have to do is get past the king.

Easier said than done.

* * *

"My father wants to have you over again for dinner," James says as he walks with me after his fighting in the square.

"You don't think he knows yet, do you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Not a chance. He just finds you very delightful."

I scowl. "I am not delightful."

James nudges me. "You are when you want to be."

I smile and roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He takes my hand and laces our fingers together. Anyone who glanced our way would know we were together, but I don't care. I don't care about much anymore. James glances at me, and I blush. It's hard to get used to this again after so long, but I'm glad I will be. It's a good feeling to have, this sense of adoration. _Real_ adoration.

"You will come, won't you?" he asks me suddenly.

I sigh, looking at the ground. "Do you really think that's the best idea, going to your home on a regular basis, I mean? Won't they start asking questions?"

James laughs lightly. "My parents are already asking questions. 'When are you going to put a ring on that, darling?'" he mimics in a high-pitched voice. "My mother saw how we only danced with each other at the ball."

I blush again. Could I imagine being married to James? Could I imagine being married at all? I think for a moment. Yes. Yes, I could. "Y-you danced w-with your sister, too," I point out.

He nods. "That's true, but she's still getting complaints from all the ladies that want my hand."

I giggle. "Well, I think I've already got it." I hold up our entwined hands.

He smirks. "Indeed."

* * *

I tell Aramina what happened the previous night after I get home from my visit with James. I just happen to leave out our kiss, but I do mention that _he_ showed up. She is as surprised as I was by this fact.

"You mean, h-he actually showed up… at a party?" she asks.

I nod. "That's what happened."

She looks at me curiously. "And how did you react to this?"

I don't look at her as I say, "Fine."

Aramina sighs. "Corinne, I know you're not over him. You may never be, but you have to stop denying your feeli—"

"Aramina," I say, annoyed, "I'm fine. I'm not denying anything, okay? Everything's perfectly fine."

She shakes her head. "No, it's not. Everything's not fine." She takes my hand. "You're under a major amount of emotional distress, and you don't know how to deal with it."

I rip my hand away from hers and stand abruptly. "Thanks, Aramina, but I think I know myself." I walk back to my room and slam the door. Almost immediately, I feel bad about what I just said. This woman has given me everything; a roof over my head, food, drink, multiple dresses for parties, everything. And this is how I repay her?

I shake my head and open the door, meaning to apologize, but, to my surprise, Aramina is nowhere to be seen. I glance around curiously and check in the kitchen, but she's not there, either. She's not in the dining room, or the washroom, or the parlor. I wander around the house in a daze. Where could she have gone?

And that's when I hear the sobbing. I whip my body around to the closet behind me. Slowly, I open the door. Aramina's curled up into a ball on the floor.

I gasp and kneel down in front of her. "Aramina! What's wrong?"

She doesn't stop sobbing and just shakes her head. I notice that her hand is curled into a fist around something, and I try to pry it from her, but she won't let it loose. After a couple tries, Aramina gives up and lets a crumpled-up paper fall to the floor. I uncrumple it and nearly choke. It's from _him_.

 _Aramina,_

 _I'm sorry and ashamed to say that I haven't seen you since your wedding. It's been a long time. I hope you, Elijah, and his daughter are well._

 _But, I'm afraid that this letter is not sent for pleasantries. I cannot begin to express the sorrow I feel as I write this. I so dearly wish not to deliver this news, but I cannot just leave you in the dark._

 _Alright. I can't avoid it any longer…_

 _Renée has been confirmed dead._

 _Her body was found in a farm just outside of Paris. The medical examiner says she had been ill for the past few weeks but never was able to get cured. I wish I had more details to give you, but that's all we know._

 _I'm probably as distraught as you are right now. Renée was a dear friend of mine, too._

 _If you need anything, Aramina, just ask and you will have it. I wish no harm to befall any of you._

 _I must go now, but if you have any questions, or need anything just as I just mentioned, please, write back to me._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Louis_

I wish my emotions would kick in out of seeing his name and blind me from the true meaning if this letter. Is it real? No, it can't be real. Can it? No. It can't.

This isn't real. Any moment I'll wake up in Aramina's guest bedroom and scream and cry. But it's not real. Inside screams:

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

But the conscious part of my head—the logical and the truthful part—screams it over and over and over. And over. And over. And then I know.

It's real.

My senses fail me. In a split-second I'm falling to the ground, and in another my vision goes black. Aramina's sobs don't rush through my ears as they used to. Instead, there's only a faint ringing. I know that I'm passing out, but I don't care. What's to care for anymore?

Louis—I don't care if I hear that stupid name because it doesn't even matter—rejected me. People are trying to kill me. Renée is dead. What's the point of this damn life anymore? It'd be so much easier to give up on it all. So much easier. And so, so tempting.

* * *

I remember why I haven't ended my life yet. It's only one reason, but it's enough. It's the person who taught me to trust again. It's the man who made me feel love again. It's the thing that's beginning to fix what's been ripped apart time and time again. It's the beautiful raven-haired boy in front of me. The one who's pressing something cool to my forehead.

"Hi," the blurry face says with a smile. "Welcome back."

I blink away the black dots dancing in my vision. I'm in Aramina's guest bedroom, I realize. "W-what happened?" I ask, even though I know what did. How could I ever forget that?

He presses the back of his hand to my forehead. "You passed out after…" He trails off.

I feel tears gathering in my eyes. "Please just say it. Let me know it wasn't a figment of my imagination."

He lets out a deep sigh. "I read the letter. Renée is dead. I'm sorry."

Tears stream down my cheek. I take his hand and squeeze it as hard as I can. "Why does this always happen to me? Why am I always in a perfectly happy place in life and then someone comes in and crushes everything?"

James sets his forehead on the pillow next to me. "I don't know. I'm so sorry, Corinne. This shouldn't be happening to you. You've had enough trauma to last you a lifetime."

I shake my head. "It should happen to me. I wouldn't want this for anyone else."

"I know."

We're silent for a few moments before he says, "Do you want me to stay or go?"

I inhale deeply. "Can you… leave me alone for a while. I need to think about some things."

He kisses my hand and leaves. I really didn't want him to leave, but I don't want him to see me cry again. And as soon as the door is shut, I start letting the tears fall. I muffle my sobs into the pillow. I just pray that they can't hear me.

I feel my heart beat inside my chest, but I wish it would stop. It's not fair that I'm living and Renée is not. She was a much better person than I. She's the one that deserves to live, not me. I'm that worthless, good for nothing blonde that gets worked up at the slightest mention of Louis's name.

But then I realize I'm not that girl anymore, leaving out the fact that I'm no longer a blonde. I don't want to cry every time I hear his name. I don't want to cry every time I think of my banishment. I don't cry when I think of all those promises he made me and never kept. Now, I just get angry.

That's how I used to be. I used to be a hot-head. I used to be stubborn. I used to be a loud-mouth. But looking at me now… I'm ashamed. These things keep happening to me because I let them. I don't have a thick skin anymore. Maybe it's time I grow that back.

* * *

I'm asleep. That's the state I remember last being in. Probably asleep, I realize. I'm not really sure. The world is fuzzy in Aramina's bedroom. There's a noise and a candle is lit. And then suddenly someone is kneeling in front of me.

"Renée," I whisper groggily.

"Sh," she says. "No one can no I'm here."

I smile. What an amazing dream to have on such a night. "What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

"I know you think that, but I'm not, Corinne." She looks around anxiously. "Don't trust Captain Baudin."

I yawn. "I know that. He's trying to kill me."

She nods. "Yes. And be careful who you trust. Traitors are everywhere, Corinne."

"Mm-hm."

"Corinne," Renée hisses, "I'm serious."

I nod slowly. "I know." I halfway close my eyes. "I'm tired."

She smiles and brushes my hair out of my eyes. "That's all. Go back to sleep." And then she's gone.

I close my eyes and almost fall back into unconsciousness.

"Hm," I muse. "I thought I was already asleep."

* * *

 **(A/N: WEEE! UPDATE! So... We got a glimpse of Louis, and that's always good! (Maybe.) And our first Jarinne kiss! How'd you like it? It wasn't too cheesy? Hee. And... yeah. Renee's dead. Maybe. I just started chapter 12, and hopefully I'll finish it by next week. And, oh, I just started school today, so forgive me if I'm late updating occasionally.**

 **And, guys! 15 reviews in one chapter! Thanks!**

 **Replies:**

 **Despicable Margo: Haha. I know. Took me forever to figure out Roman numerals. I'm actually not really sure if it's Louis 14, but it's my best guess. And, OMG I hate that wig. He looks so… old. :)**

 **Paris4eva: Thanks so much for your vote!**

 **Guest: Eeeeeek! JAMES.**

 **Sophhascoconuts: Aww. Thanks so much!**

 **Esmee-lynn: *Happy sigh* I love that part... The greatest part of love triangles is getting one guy to ruin everything! Nah. You don't really have to for sure pick a team right now. (But JJJJJAAAAMMMMEEEESSSS!) And you can always change. Omg. Villains are the best things. I ship Corippe a bit and also Helsa! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Turquisea: Hahahaha. That's hilarious. As for Louis, he's not a kicked puppy... Not yet, at least. Did you like the kissing scene? *Waggles eyebrows***

 **Duck: Here ya go!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Thanks for voting! In a perfect story, this chapter would be the end... BUT nope. Sorry. You know me too well. And I love the theories. Keep em coming.**

 **Maryam969: Whoop! Another team James!**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Hee. You're so fun to mess with. Lol. Yep. The "Lady Barbecue" move wasn't the best idea considering that's one of her most famous missions. Haha. Since James seems to be related to everyone... who knows. And since I'm torturing you so much, I'm gonna tell you a secret... *Whispers* Your trash son is going to make an appearance soon.**

 **Anonymous: Thanks for your vote!**

 **Decembra: Thanks for voting! And thanks for all those wonderful compliments! That's so sweet of you to say! Writing is super fun! If it's an original story you should put it on Fictionpress! Great site! Thanks so much for reading!**

 **Okay, guys! Your comments were awesome! I want to hear your opinions. How long do you think this fic should be? And was the Jarinne relationship too rushed for your taste?**

 **Oh, and I want to tell you a funny story. So, my friend and I were talking about the 3 Musk, and I happened to mention the ship Corippe, (Corinne and Philippe :P) and she said it was wrong on so many levels, naturally, but then she said that if you said it a couple times fast, it sounds like you're saying creep. I tried it, and omg, it does.**

 **Bye!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	10. A Hello To My Enemies

I wake to the sun shining in my eyes, and immediately I wish I were asleep again. I would really rather just brood in darkness, but, obviously, the sun has other ideas. Sighing, I sit up with a hand on my head, being sure not to fall over. My head spins as I try to stand. I stumble a couple steps then hit the floor with a thud.

The door opens, and a second later James is kneeling beside me. "Corinne, are you alright?"

I swallow a laugh. "Yeah," I choke out.

He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. "What happened?"

"Before or after I woke up?"

"After." He sets me down on the bed.

I shrug. "The sun woke me up."

James is silent as he studies my face. "Are you okay?"

I furrow my eyebrows and look down at my arms. "Yeah. No bruises." I hold them up for him to see.

I smile flickers on his lips for a split-second, but it disappears as quickly as it was there. "No, I mean about Renée."

I frown and furrow my eyebrows. "Renée?" Realization flickers across my features. "Oh." I hadn't forgotten, but maybe I'm somewhat in denial.

He sets a hand on my shoulder. "Do you need anything?"

I bring my legs to my chest. "No… I don't think so. Maybe some food?" I look at him with pleading eyes. "I'm really hungry."

James nods and steps out of the room. I collapse back onto the bed and groan. Why is my life so terrible? Why do the worst things always come crawling back to me? Why is my happiness always disrupted by something unspeakably horrible? This I may never know.

James is back in less than three minutes with bread, fruit, and cheese. "Aramina's not feeling well, so she's staying in bed for a little while," he explains.

"Why? Is she okay?"

He sighs, setting a plate on my lap. "Just, uh, a little heartbroken, you know? It's been really rough on her; hearing of your death, being kicked out of the musketeers, and now Renée. The poor girl's going to go gray prematurely." I nod as I chew. James studies my face, as if looking for something, but then shakes his head and drops his gaze to the floor.

I realize something as I stare at his eyes. I brush my thumb across the dark circles under his eyes. "James, how long have you been here?"

He shrugs. "Around a day and a half."

I shake my head. "What about you parents?"

"I told them that you and your roommate were sick, and they let me go." He strokes his fingers across my cheek then stands. "I'm going to go check on Aramina. Do you need anything else?"

I shake my head, and he leaves. I blush as soon as the door is closed. I shouldn't be surprised, because I know how caring he is, but this is still odd for me to get used to. Not that I don't like it. I actually find it quite delightful that someone cares about me.

* * *

I'm up by noon that day, but Aramina stays in bed for another few hours. I hadn't realized how much she cared about Renée until this happened. Of course, I care about Renée, too, but she was always so strong that she drifted from my thoughts a lot more often than the others did. Now I just feel so guilty I hadn't appreciated her more than I had.

James stays and takes care of us, though I keep telling him that he should go home and rest and that I can take care of everything just fine. He refuses every single time and always says, "You are more important to me than rest."

When Aramina finally appears in the main part of the apartment, James and I say nothing as we take in her… disheveled appearance; her cheeks are red from crying and her hair is in disarray.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice almost hoarse. "I guess I sort of lost it."

I immediately wrap my arms around her. "No, Aramina, don't apologize. You had the right to." I pull back and stare her in the eye.

Her lip quivers. "Corinne, I-"—her voice cracks—"I just… can't believe she's gone. She was one of my best friends." She laughs, a short, raspy sort of sound. "I guess she was your friend, too, right?" I crack a smile. "She always liked you best, you know. I knew that even before she left. I was always a bit irritating to her, but I knew she cared about me." Tears start falling slowly out of her eyes, and I feel some gathering in my own. "What will I do without her?"

I bite my lip and once again pull her into my arms. "You haven't seen her in years, Ara. Just do what you did then."

"But I believed she was alive then. I never knew what happened to her, so I assumed she was alive."

I'm about to reply, but a knock on the door stops me. I glance curiously at James, but he's halfway to the door with the help of his long legs. He opens the door, but James's frame blocks the visitor from view.

The conversation is too low to hear, but I can make out the words "father," "Cobras," and "angry," if that can tell you anything. I walk up behind James and duck under his arms which are braced on the doorframe. I see a tall—are all Black Cobras tall, or is it just a coincidence that every one of them are six-foot-whatevers?—and blond-haired boy standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Who's this?" I ask, turning to James.

He sighs deeply. "This is _Oscar_." He says the name with such a dismal look, that I can help but giggle.

Oscar smiles widely, takes my hand, bows, and kisses my knuckles. "Oscar Antoine William Chastain." He straightens up and nods to James. "This boy's cousin, I might add."

Oscar. I know that name. My eyes widen in realization. _Oscar_. The boy who had been in the café when I first saw James.

"Go away, Oscar," James growls.

He laughs, ignoring him, and turns his attention back to me. "So, is this the girl you've been blabbering on about?"

James sighs in what seems like defeat. "Yes."

"She's much too pretty for you."

James scowls and hits Oscar—open-palmed, at least—in the chest. "Shut up, Oscar!"

It barely fazes him. "It's true! You talked about her for an hour straight last week!"

"Shut up, Oscar!" James's cheeks turn a shade of pink I've never seen before.

Oscar peers over James's shoulder at Aramina. "You making girls cry again, Jamie?" He tuts at him. "Didn't you father ever teach you how to treat a lady?"

James's hands curl into fists. "Shut. Up. Oscar."

I set a reassuring hand on his arm, and James sighs. "Can you _please_ leave now?"

Oscar holds up a hand in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying that your father is not happy about this."

James rolls his eyes. "Do I look like I care?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you want me to tell him that?"

James's eyes widen. "Hell no!"

Oscar smirks. "Didn't think so." He turns back to me and bows. "Until we meet again, my lady."

"Are you sure there's going to be a next time?" I ask.

He smiles. "I'm certain of it." One wink in James's direction later, he's jogging down the hall.

I giggle. "What was that all about?"

James shuts the door and collapses on Aramina's couch. "Just Oscar trying to be helpful again."

"He's your cousin?" I raise an eyebrow. "You don't look anything alike."

He lets out a strangled laugh. "On my mother's side, yes. His father—my uncle—is about as blond as they come."

I settle into the couch next to him. "I see."

Aramina sniffles next to us. "Well, uh, you know what, I think I'll go out for a bit."

I stand quickly. "Aramina, are you sure? I could come with you."

"That's alright," she says, grabbing her basket. "I just need some air, and I'll pick up something for dinner." Without another word, she's gone.

I sigh, turning to James. "I'm worried about her."

He nods. "I know."

* * *

James and I leave later that night for his parents' manor. I didn't want to come with him, but he told me that his father would not hear of anything otherwise. Apparently (and I have no idea how), they like me.

I'm greeted by Lady Eleanor with an embrace, and by Captain Baudin with a bow. Emily and the other girls are absent. I'm brought inside the manor, and, once again, the place takes my breath away. I'll never get used to its divine features.

"So, my dear," Captain Baudin says as we walk, "my son tells me you've been sick."

I fake a laugh—not very well, I will add. "Oh, just a, uh, little cold, monsieur. I'm fine, really. He's very overprotective." Lady Eleanor's smile visibly widens. She must be putting the pressure on to get him married off.

"Well, I'm glad you're well, my dear," Baudin says. "And if there's anything you need just ask. We'd be glad to help."

I smile. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind."

It's silent except for the clicking of my shoes, but instead of the anxiety I usually feel when I walk these halls, it's as if there's a peaceful aura surrounding us all. As if confirming my thoughts, James takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine.

I fight the blush creeping up my cheeks. "What about you parents?" I whisper.

He moves his lips so that they brush my ear. "Let them see."

I let out a soft laugh and gently squeeze his hand. We walk like that to the dining room, but we don't separate at all through dinner. Even as we sit in the parlor together, our hands stay firmly clasped together as if they're our lifeline. I guess in a way, he is my own lifeline.

* * *

"It's official," James says as he walks me out several minutes before the carriage is due. "My mother loves you."

I playfully roll my eyes. "Yeah, right."

James nudges me. "I'm serious. She's going on and all about how pretty and talented and _eligible_ "—he draws out the word as long as he can—"you are. I told her if she's so smitten with you she should marry you herself."

I burst out laughing. "You did not say that!"

He lets out a small chuckle. "Yes, I quite assure you I did."

I put my hand over my mouth to muffle the giggles. "God, you're terrible."

He smirks. "I know."

How did I come to deserve this beautiful person? I've done nothing. I'm being selfish. I'm not letting him find someone better than me. I'm not letting him live up to his full potential. I'm not letting him allow himself to see the truth of what I am.

But as I watch him smile, and laugh, and move, and breathe, I can't help but not care about what's right and wrong. But as far as I'm concerned, everything with him in it is right. It doesn't matter, even then. Nothing matters right now. Nothing else matters but us, and the way his fingers tangle into my hair, and the way his arm pulls me closer, and the way my hands memorize the curves of his face, and the way his lips are a perfect match against mine. And the way I know that he adores me.

This is better than any kiss I'd ever had. Ask me a few weeks ago, and I would have argued that, but now… That doesn't matter anymore. The past is past. I need to focus on the future, this perfectly amazing future.

"Well well. Look what we have here."

James and I break apart immediately at the sound of the voice. I blush when I see Emily standing on the top step with her arms folded across her chest.

"Emily! What are you doing out here?!" James growls.

She laughs, and slowly comes down each step until she's at our level. "This is my home, too, you know."

James sighs. "Would you leave? Please?"

Emily comes up right next him and sets an arm on his shoulder. "Actually, Jamie, I need to talk to your… significant other for a moment, if you don't moment."

He scowls. "Actually, I do mind, thank you very much."

She rolls her eyes. "God, I wasn't giving you an actual choice. Do I have to spell it out for you? _Leave_." Emily links our arms together, and I watch as James stomps up the steps and back inside, muttering some not-so-nice things on the way.

I face Emily with a very confused look on my face "Can I… help you?"

She smiles. "I think the question you should be asking is 'How can you help me,' you got that?"

"Not reall—"

"Well, that's great!" she exclaims, cutting me off. "You see, Corinne—"

I gasp. "What! You mean you know my—"

Emily groans. "Do I know your name is not Marie? Yes, obviously. You told me at the ball. Remember?"

"Oh, righ—"

"Shut it! I'm trying to talk."

"Sorry," I whisper.

Emily smiles. "Okay then." She sets a hand on my shoulder. "Corinne, as you know, my father is out to get you." I nod slowly. "Well, I kind of like you, and I sense that my brother does also, so here." She shoves an envelope into my hand. I move to open it, but she stops me. "No. Not right now. You can't let anyone know about this. Not even my brother. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whisper, nodding, "but why can't I tell James?"

Emily glances around, as if there may be someone listening to our conversation. "Just, please. Don't ask questions. It's important that you don't."

I look down at the envelope in my hands and sigh. "Alright."

She smiles. "Thank you." And the next thing I know, she's gone and James is trudging down the steps.

"What did she want?" he asks with a deep sigh.

I slowly move my arm that's holding the envelope behind my back. "Oh, nothing. Just, uh, you know, girl talk."

He smirks. "She certainly has the best timing in the world."

I let out a strangled laugh and stare at my shoes to hide the blush rising to my cheeks. "Yeah."

James looks curiously at me. "Hey, are you alright?"

I curse myself again for being such a terrible liar, but I'm not able to complete my mental thrashing before the carriage stops in front of us. I shake my head and put a very fake smile on my face. "Perfect."

James opens the carriage door but only lets me onto the first step before halting me. "I'll come by tomorrow after my shift, okay?" I nod, and he kisses my cheek. I sit on the plush velvet seat, waiting for him to close the door. "Take care of yourself, darling," he says with a smile and closes the door.

I sit there, frozen still. He did not just call me that. He couldn't have, right? He couldn't have called me the one name that _he_ had. I shouldn't be so surprised. It's not like we were the only—I nearly scowl as I think it—couple in this world that uses the name. But I just… I can't get over it. Everything here reminds me of _him_. Every sidewalk, every building, every person—it's all _his_. It's hard to stay in this place with all the reminders of everything that's happened to me. But the thing is...

The thing is I can't find the courage to leave.

* * *

Aramina's asleep when I get to her apartment. I try to sleep, but I can't seem to relax, so I get up to make myself tea. After I fill the kettle with water and set it on the stove, I sit at her table, my face in my palms.

I replay the entire sequence of the last few days in my head—James and my kiss, Renée's death announcement, Oscar, the Baudins. There's so much going on at once, and I can't figure any of it out.

Then I remember the envelope. I nearly flip over my chair when I jump up, and I scramble back to my room. It's sitting on the chair my dress is draped over. God, how had I forgotten about it? I move back to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of tea, and sit. With a pin from my hair, I slice open the envelope and slide a paper out of it.

It's a list of names.

 _Gabriel Bruschelle_

 _Anthony Devereaux_

 _Thomas Smith_

 _William Reynolds_

 _Bertram Faulkner_

And more names.

 _Jonathan Davids_

 _Javier Delacruz_

 _Warner August_

 _Etienne Descoteaux_

 _Gustave Guistolle_

 _Philippe Rousseau_

I stare at the page for what feels like an hour. I can't believe it. Names? That's it? What am I supposed to do with names?

"Are you okay?" a small voice says. I gasp and whip my head back up. Aramina's daughter—Juliet, I remember—stands in front of me with a curious expression on her face.

"Y-yeah."

She takes a step toward me. "Are you sure? You don't too good."

I stand quickly, gathering my items, and head for the kitchen to put away my cup. "I'm great. Thanks. Can I get you something?"

She shakes her head. "No. I heard a noise, so I came out to see what it was."

I nod. "Well, uh, just me." I let out a nervous laugh.

Juliet looks curiously at me. "If you say so." A minute or so passes, but she still doesn't leave. I'm about to ask her again if she needs something, but she says, "Is something wrong my mother?"

I bite my lip. "Uh…" The question takes me by surprise. "Well, uh, kind of." I sit down in a chair, and she does the same. "Aramina had this dear friend back a long time ago, and… she just found out she passed away."

Her face turns somber. "How?"

"Uh… she got really sick and couldn't find a doctor," I say.

"Will that happen to my mother?"

Now _that_ question takes me by surprise. "No!" I nearly shout. "No, of course not."

Juliet lets out a breath of what seems to be relief. I smile. "Now, uh, off to bed with you."

She smiles at me for a second before retreating back to her room. I let out a sigh and walk back into my own bedroom. I feel exhausted now, I realize as I lie down. The darkness starts to overtake me almost immediately, but I see the paper Emily gave me on the nightstand before I close my eyes.

 _Bertram Faulkner, Philippe Rousseau._ The names are repeated back to me in my head. _Assassin-For-Rent. Power-hungry Regent._

I snap my eyes open.

It's not just a list of names, I realize.

It's the list of people who want me dead.

* * *

 **(A/N: BUM BUM BUM! Gosh, this chapter, though not very fluffy, I know, is one of my favorites. That ending just gives me chills every single time. Happy September! Sorry! I tried to update Tuesday, but the server was down, so I couldn't! I'm over one-third the way from being done with chapter 13, but I'm starting to lose interest, so I just have to keep writing until everything is tied up. And guess what! It's only 32 days until my birthday! Eeek! I can't wait! I'm also starting a new oneshot, by the way! I can't give too much away, but I will tell you it's modern… and it's an AU based off one of my most favoritest (I am well aware that's not a word) movies ever! *Gasp* Maybe I'll post it as a birthday present to myself! :D**

 **And, OMG, I absolutely love how I can say to Lyssita Lennon "Your trash son" and everyone knows exactly whoI'm talking about. I laughed so many times.**

 **Replies:**

 **Despicable Margo: Haha. I know. Poor bae Louis. (And I mean that is the actual Dutch translation. Look it up. :D) I'll try to get in as much fluff as possible, but this does have to be action-y for many reasons. I'll see what I can do. You already read my When We Were 18 story, I saw, but I'll try to add some more! And no! I love your reviews! Long reviews are great and so are short ones! I think your length is fine.**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Hee. I thought you'd like that. I love the theories, but I cannot say anything even though I really really want to. Wow. That's a lot of fucks. Poor James. :P And you don't want to know how hard I laughed when you were talking about Renee fucking shit up from beyond the beyond with her ghost sword. Haha. That's awesome. Hey, rants are great. Rants are awesome. Good luck in school to you, too!**

 **Paris4eva: Eeek! I'm sorry! Don't kill me! :D**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Actually Renee is my second favorite musketeer, beside Corinne. Sorry. She's just very killable, you know? Hey, I love kisses with the people I don't ship... Sometimes.**

 **Turquisea: TEAM PUPPY KITTEN FOR LIFE! Haha. Best quote I've seen in a review so far :D Lol.**

 **Esmee-lynn: Really? I'm so glad! *Blushes* No, no. I couldn't... Okay. Haha. I was really trying to get all the emotion that Corinne feels realistic and such, but since I've never been in such deep of conflict, I can't say if it's good or not for myself. What do you think? Hopefully we get to see Louis again soon, but I will say it's not for a while. Yep, killing off is a bit of my thing, and I'm not afraid to do it no matter how hard people will scream at me. Thank you for saying that! Another pro-Helsa shipper?! Eeeeek! That's amazing! Corippe, yeah, it's pretty odd, but... Eh, it could happen (not). My goal for this story is 20 chapters, but hopefully I'll go a bit over. Thanks for such another nice review! And long reviews are great! Actually, any reviews are great!**

 **Guest: Haha. *Fist bump* Team Louis. Glad you liked the kiss, though!**

 **IcyFairy: Actually, Renée is my second favorite musketeer! I love her so! :P**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Later!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	11. So Many Things Wrong

Sleep never came. I just layed there for hours and hours on end, afraid to move, but afraid to keep still. Images from when I was a musketeer came and went. I remember now. All those names—Warner August, Gabriel Bruschelle, Gustave Guistolle, etc.—they all come flooding back into my memory. Every single one I took down, every single one made it their mission to track me down and kill me. But how did they get out?

Morning comes and goes quicker than I realize. It's after noon by the time I force myself out of bed. Aramina's up, cleaning the kitchen floor with a quaint smile on her lips. It takes me a minute to realize she's humming. "How was the Baudins'?" she asks in a faint sing-songy way.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you have multiple personalities, or something?"

She laughs. "No."

I sit in a chair and stare at her curiously. "You puzzle me, child."

She stands up and wipes off her hands with a towel. "As do you. But I don't think we can be called children anymore."

"I'll say," I mutter. I stopped being a child a _long_ time ago.

Aramina fills a cup with tea and sets it in front of me along with a plate of fruit and bread. "But, really, Corinne. How was the Baudins'?" she asks again, lifting up a bucket full of water.

"As good as being in the home of a man who hates me can be."

She stops in her tracks. "What?"

I take a quick sip of tea. "Oh, I didn't tell you? Captain Baudin is the one who sent those men after me."

Aramina drops the bucket on the floor, and the water spills out everywhere. She doesn't even blink. "What!"

I stand and grab several towels, throwing them down onto the mess she's made. "I just told you."

Aramina shakes her head in disbelief. "Then why do you keep going over there?"

I smile to myself. "Because it's fun."

She scoffs and kneels down to help me. "Do you have a death wish?" she asks.

I laugh. "No, of course not."

She stands up, and I follow. "Then why?"

I'm silent, but I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Not a few seconds later, Aramina gasps, a huge smile spreading across her face. "No!" she shrieks. I bite my lip, and the blush becomes more intense. "You mean, you… and… him… are… an item?!"

I hesitantly nod, a smile across my own face now. Aramina is about to scream again, but I slap my hand over her mouth. "Sh!" I hiss. "You can't let anybody know!"

She removes my hand and sticks out her lip, almost pouting. "Why not?"

"If anyone finds out I'm with one of the most eligible bachelors in Paris someone is bound to start asking questions," I say. God, it feels so good to say these words.

Aramina giggles. "Oh, Corinne! I'm so happy for you! And so soon after Louis!" My face falls, and she gasps. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," I say, cutting her off, "it's fine. I should stop being so sensitive."

She sets a hand on my shoulder. "But even after all you've gone through? I don't expect that from you so soon."

I shake my head. "Aramina, really. I'm over him, okay? I'm with James now. Louis"—I have to force his name out—"can rot in Hell for all I care."

A smile spreads across Aramina's face. She puts her arm around my shoulders. "Now _that's_ the Corinne I know and love."

I wish.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day staring at the list of names. But it's almost like they're the ones staring at me. The names bore through my skull, and I just can't stop trying to make sense of all this. The thing is… I can't. None of this makes sense. These men are in jail. I know they are. I locked them up myself. But how could they have gotten out without anyone noticing? I shake my head. They probably have somebody working for them. Convicted felons surely aren't out on the streets. Right?

Shaking my head, I stand up and walk out the door. "Aramina," I say, facing her, "I'm going out."

She raises an eyebrow. "Alright." I open the front door, but right before I slam it closed, I hear her add, "Don't get murdered! You hear me?"

Emily said not to tell anyone, and I won't, but I've got to come up with an excuse as to why I'm at Philippe's prison. It's obvious I can't just go waltzing in there asking for a convict that was put in here some twelve years ago. _Wait, can I?_ I shake my head. _No. That will never work_.

I'm so deep in my thoughts, I don't realize until it's happens that I've run smack into someone. We both fall to the ground with a thud.

"God, I'm sorry, miss. Are you alright?" a blond man asks.

He lifts me up. I shake my head. "I'm fin—"

"Marie?" he asks, cutting me off.

I smile. "Oscar."

Oscar's face sets into it wide grin. "Marie! It is you!"

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

He starts walking slowly and gestures for me to follow. "I just got off duty, so I was heading home. What about you?"

"Uh..." I trail off. My mind racks itself for something, anything really.

Before I can ponder it any more, Oscar says, "It's alright. You don't have to tell me."

There seems to almost be something like sadness etched across his face. It looks so unnatural on him that it nearly pains me to see him this way. "No! It's not that," I nearly shout. "It's just..." I quickly search my brain for something. "It's just that I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just, uh, bored." I let out a strangled laugh. I curse myself again for what seems like the hundredth time.

The smile returns to his face. "Oh, alright then. I can show you some fun things to do if you want."

I furrow my eyebrows and cock my head to the side. "Like what?"

A smirk replaces his smile. "You'll see."

* * *

A million thoughts rush through my head as Oscar pulls me through street-among-street. My mind screams _danger_ over and over, but I can't seem to find the will to say no anymore. It's possible that I don't want to. Danger nowadays seems to be part of my life.

"Just a couple more blocks," Oscar says.

"O-okay," I stutter.

He looks at me curiously. "Are you alright? Do you want to go back?"

I force a smile. "No, I'm good. Just wondering what James would think about this."

Oscar laughs. "About what? Doing something stupid or going off with me."

I giggle a bit. "Both."

Oscar stop suddenly, and I nearly run into his back. "We're here."

I look around, confused about my surroundings. We're in an alley that dead-ends into a brick wall. "We are?"

He smirks. Oscar moves some boxes around and reveals what looks like a ladder. "I hope you like heights!"

I gasp. "Are you kidding me?"

"It's okay. It's not that scary once you get used to it."

I let out a sarcastic laugh and cross my arms over my chest. "The height is not what I'm talking about. You actually expect me to go onto a roof with you?"

He shrugs. "Yeah."

"You don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off by saying, "Don't answer that."

Oscar laughs. "Oh, come on. I thought you liked to do crazy stuff!"

I raise an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

He smirks. "As I said before, James won't stop talking about you."

"What does he say exactly?"

"You don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off by saying, "Don't answer that."

Oscar laughs. "Oh, come on. I thought you like to do crazy stuff!"

I raise an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

He smirks. "As I said before, James won't stop talking about you."

"What does he say exactly?"

Oscar leans against a brick wall, his arms folded across his chest, a sly smirk on his face. "Just that you're the epitome of gloriousness and the most divine creation God has ever given the world." He laughs, and I'm sure it's because of the way my cheeks turn red. "And I'm not paraphrasing at all."

I clear my throat, pleading for the redness in my cheeks to vanish. "Are we going up or not?"

"Oh, so did little miss scaredy cat change her mind?"

"I was not scared," I say through gritted teeth.

I can see the mischievous glint in his eye as he says, "Then show me."

* * *

The wind blows harder on the roof. My eyes are closed as I inch my way down the wooden board connecting one roof to the other. _Stupid,_ I think to myself. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ But I don't stop moving across. I will not be proven wrong to this know-it-all.

Oscar watches me with a clearly visible smirk on his face. "Be careful not to fall, hon! I want to get you back to Jamie, in one piece preferably."

I grit my teeth. "You are such a jerk."

He laughs. "I know."

I focus back on the board beneath me and find that I'm much higher than I realized. I roll my eyes. "Fuck you, Oscar!"

The damn kid laughs again.

* * *

After I complete my stupid act of pride, Oscar pulls me across another building. As we walk, I look at at the streets of Paris. Letting out a sigh, I sit down on the edge of a wall, my feet dangling down. It looks exactly the same as when I saw Paris from the clouds with _him._ The buildings, the people, everything. But it's not the same. Everything is much more terrible. People are suffering, and he's not doing anything about it. I may someday forgive him for what he's done to me, but there is no way I'll forgive him for what he's done to these innocent people, to Paris itself.

I don't notice that Oscar is sitting next to me until now. He leans closer and whispers, "Why are you so sad all the time?" He doesn't say it as a joke or an insult or anything like that, but instead it's a legitimate question. He really wants to know.

I sigh deeply. Another question I don't want to answer. "It's very complicated."

He scoots closer. "I've got time."

I let out a strangled laugh. "Not enough for this."

Oscar nudges me."Come on, Mar. Talk to me."

I raise an eyebrow. "Mar?"

He laughs. "What do you think? Or should I stick to Rie?"

I giggle, looking down at the street below. "Mar's fine."

Oscar nudges me again. "But that's beside the point. We were talking about why you're always so depressed."

I cross my arms across my chest. "I am not depressed." The look on my face makes him laugh.

He rolls his eyes after a second. "You're just… mopey. You do love my cousin, don't you?"

"Yes, but…" I trail off. "I just… It's not about James. But I really can't tell you."

Oscar nods. "It's alright. I understand."

I smile. "Thank you." Hopping up from the wall, I say, "Well, I better get back. James will be worried."

Oscar stares at me a moment before standing and bowing. "Of course, madame."

* * *

There were many attempts of getting down from the roof on my part. But, all the same, splinters were the worst injuries I got. I guess I'm fortunate enough for that, at least.

I groan as I drop to the ground from the middle of the ladder. "Is it just me, or was it a lot easier getting up than it was getting down?" I try to wipe the dust off my dress several times, but to no avail.

Oscar jumps off and lands on the ground, rolling a few feet before stopping. Standing up, he dusts off his hands. "I agree."

We start walking toward the main square within a flurry of people. I'm forced to grab Oscar's arm to keep up with him. He moves toward a building once we're in the square. It's guarded by those familiar black uniforms, and there's an emblem of a snake on either side of the entrance. The Black Cobras building, I realize.

"Wait here," Oscar says, already running up the stairs. "I need to get something. Don't move. Please. James will beat me senseless if I lose you."

I put an annoyed expression on my face. "I'm not a dog."

He smirks, stopping at the top step. "I know you're not. Dogs are sweet."

I open my mouth to retort, but he's already in the door. Shaking my head, I lean against the wall.

"You're Oscar's girl?" someone asks. I look to my left to see one of the guards staring at me.

I shake my head. "N-no. James."

The guard who spoke glances at the other. "You're Marie?" he asks.

I nod. "Oscar was just escorting me."

Against his pale skin, a smirk appears on his lips. I suddenly recognize him as the third boy I saw at the restaurant when I first arrived here. "Stay away from Oscar. He's a player."

I laugh. "I already figured that out." It's easy to tell by the way he looks at you with that heart-melting smile and his smolder. I know he's tried it a couple times on me, but I haven't caved.

The pale guard nods. "Good because I'd hate to see Jamie get his heart broken."

"Do you all call him that?" I ask.

"No. Just the ones who are allowed. And the ones who don't care about getting hit in th—" The guard cuts himself off, and he and his partner straighten up as the door to the building swings open. I laugh, knowing the drill perfectly. If your boss stops by, you act like you're working. It's what you do.

Voices come from people walking down the stairs. I move my eyes to the ground, hoping that whoever it is will just ignore me. Of course, I'm not that lucky.

"Marie!"

I look up to see Captain Baudin and an auburn-haired stranger dressed in what has to be noble clothes. The captain waves me over. He practically embraces me once I'm next him. "Marie, what are you doing here?"

I smile weakly. "I was with Oscar, and he needed to get something, so he left me out here."

The captain sighs, shaking his head. "What will I ever do with that boy?" Clearing his throat, Baudin turns to the stranger next to him. "Oh, Marie. This is councilman Philippe Rousseau."

The name hits me like a punch in the gut. Suddenly, I can't speak. Or breathe. I recognize him now. He's more grayed, but his hair is the same. He looks taller than I remember. His face is chiseled and, dare I say, handsome, but his mouth is still pulled into a sneer that will haunt me forever.

And his eyes. They're dark. Darker than I remember. They're dark from the prison cell, but they're mostly dark for the amount of hate in his heart. And I know this for a fact. These people can't change.

Why is he out? Why is he here? Why is he living in luxury? Why?

"Marie." Captain Baudin's voice draws me back to the present. "Marie, are you alright, my dear?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Uh… I… can't…" I focus my vision to see Philippe staring at me curiously. He doesn't know who I am, I realize. It's been too long. He doesn't know who I am. "Yes, I'm sorry." I curtsy. When I rise, I avoid looking Philippe in the eye.

"Father?" I hear a voice call. We all turn to see James running toward us. He stops on the bottom step. "Marie, what are you doing here?"

I stare at him with pleading eyes, trying to make him understand I need to get out of here. "O-oscar," I breathe.

He nods, and I know he understands. "You don't look well. Why don't I take you home?" James takes my hands and leads me down the stairs. He turns to his father. "Tell Oscar I will kill him someday."

Captain Baudin rolls his eyes. "James."

* * *

"What's going on, James? Why is he out? Why is he here?" I choke out my questions as James rushes me through the city.

He sighs. "I told you, Corinne. My father spread rumors that you were liars who put an innocent man in prison to become musketeers."

"So he's a councilman now?!"

James groans. "Yes!"

"W-well, what other convicted criminals are living on the streets right now?"

"The ones on the council are Bertram Faulkner, William Reynolds, and many more that I forget," he says.

I nearly choke. "Those… Those are all men that we put in prison! They are criminals, James!"

James sighs. "I know they are. That's what I'm trying to change. Without my father they'll have no chance." I sigh. Damn Baudin ruins everything.

We're silent until we arrive at Aramina's. James pulls me into an embrace. "We'll figure this out, okay? Everything will be alright, but you have to keep a level head. If you don't then there's no way anything can happen."

I sigh. "James, I don't like this."

"Neither do I," he says into my hair. He pulls back and stares me in the eye. "I know we can do this. We just have to believe we can."

I shake my head. "How?"

This is impossible. I can't fight these men again.

James sighs. "I have no idea."

* * *

 **(A/N: *Blushes* That awkward moment when you realize you forgot to proofread the last chapter. Heh, heh. Whoops. Anyway, here's chapter 11! I just started chapter 15 yesterday, so hopefully I can get that done in a day or two, so I can start 16. Things will be picking up, guys. I promise!**

 **Replies:**

 **Turquisea: Hee hee. I am a bit of a scoundrel, aren't I? Indeed. Me and my plot-twists. But be prepared because some huge things will be happening soon. Hahaha. Eleanor does represent you readers a bit, doesn't she? Well, besides you others, and you know who you are (*cough, cough* Lyssita Lennon *cough, cough*). *Blocks punch* (I _am_ a yellow belt in martial arts, after all. :D.) Juliet is the most adorable thing in this story! I love her so!**

 **Paris4eva: Hmm. Well, we'll see, won't we?**

 **Despicable Margo: *High fives* Jarinne!**

 **IcyFairy: Tell me what you think! I want to tell you, but I can't right now! Ugh. No! Or should I say "Ara!" That's super cool!**

 **Esmee-lynn: *Sighs* My dear Aramina! You know, I never really thought much between Aramina and Renée's relationship until now, but I really like the character development it gives her. Eeek! You have no idea how much I want to answer all your questions, but I can't yet! *Cries* If it were me, though, I wouldn't want to live in a disguise for the rest of my life because that would be no fun! Aww. Thank you so much! *High fives* Helsa needs to happen! I can't wait until Frozen 2!**

 **Princess Geekelle: *Happy sigh* Plot-twists are my friend...**

 **Lyssita Lennon: I actually took much pleasure in writing him. :P You seem to have a thing against James, and I'm guessing I won't be able to sway you. Nah. I'm not bored anymore. Even if I was, I would've written the ending. That's what is making me want to finish. It. Is. Epic.**

 **Guest: Hmm. Am I? I may seem like so, but who knows? I may surprise you. And, sorry, but Louis won't be appearing for at least another four or five chapters. Maybe more. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Bye, guys!**

 **Until next week,**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	12. White Cobra

After three days, I still can't settle my unease from what I've found out. There's no way I'll ever be able to. These men—convicted criminals—are helping govern France. How could this happen? Louis—I don't even choke on the name as I once did—knows Philippe tried to kill him, he knows Bertram tried to kill him, and Gabriel, and Gustave, and all those other men. He knows everything. But, yet, I once thought I did, too.

* * *

"I don't understand this," I say to Aramina.

She sighs. "Corinne, what's not to understand? It's just Shakespeare."

I groan, huffing hair out of my eyes. "Everything. It's stupid."

Aramina gasps, holding her book to her chest. "Corinne! You cannot say such things about these works. I will not stand for it!"

I roll my eyes and stand up from the table. I had decided to take up reading one of her many, many, _many_ works, but after further contemplation—and reading the first page—I decided that it was way beyond my comprehension. I will never underestimate Aramina's state-of-mind again.

I take a piece of bread from the kitchen and pop it in my mouth. After chewing, I take the book from her, studying the blue cover, and I say, "Sorry, Ara, but I don't get it. Why would a girl kill herself for a guy?"

She rips the book away from me and sets it back on a bookshelf. She looks at me as if I'm an idiot who decided to stick a pen up their nose. "It's supposed to be _romantic_ "—she spats the word at me—"something that you most assuredly don't understand."

"I understand it's supposed to be romantic, but what I don't understand is why Juliet would do it for a _boy_."

Aramina sighs. "Not just any boy. It's her true love."

My mouth curls into a scowl. "There's no such thing as true love," I whisper, my voice nearly cracking.

"Corinne…" Aramina reaches out to touch me, but I step to the side. My emotions are about to nearly give out, so I walk straight out the door. Straight out the door and right into Oscar.

I gasp, nearly falling over, but he catches me by the wrists. "Marie! I'm so sorry!" he says.

I nearly laugh. "I-it's alright. But we have to stop bumping into each other like this."

He smiles. "Agreed."

* * *

"I hope James didn't kick your ass too hard," I say as I walk the plank yet again.

Oscar laughs as he follows me. "Just got a few bruises here and there. Nothing's broken." He stretches out his neck. "Probably."

I giggle. "You didn't tell him about coming up here, did you?"

"You think he'd let you out of his sight again if I had?"

"Point." I jump onto the other roof and try to catch my breath. Oscar comes up next to me and laughs. I glare at him. "What's… what's so funny?"

He giggles. _Do men giggle?_ I ask myself. Shaking my head, I straighten up and punch him across the arm. "I hate you," I say, walking past him.

Oscar stops laughing, but the smile stays on his face. "Oh, what sweet sorrow have I done to my lady to make her loathe me?"

I stare at him blankly, but a smile hints at my lips. "You have offended me with your childish banter."

Oscar gasps playfully and kneels. He takes my hand, pressing his lips against it. "Please, my lady, forgive my juvenile actions. My entire purpose in life is to please you."

Even though I know it's pretend, I blush and pull my hand away from his. He doesn't stand. "O-oh, um… Although your behavior could be considered unpardonable, I forgive thee for such misfortune as to have been born an idiot."

He smiles. "I will spend the remainder of my days as your ladyship's faithful servant and will bask in gratitude for all of eternity."

"Then, go, noble servant, and fetch my linens!"

He bows his head. "As you wish, your ladyship."

I giggle and slap his shoulder playfully. "Get up, you fool."

Oscar jumps up in one fluid motion and smiles. "Aren't you quite the actress."

I flush and turn away from him. "So are you."

He smirks, complete arrogance lining his face. "I used to do theatre many-a years ago."

I could just imagine him wearing hosiery and singing a couple limericks. Oscar nudges me. "Stop staring at me."

I giggle, averting my eyes from him. I sit on the edge of the wall, letting my feet dangle to to the street below us. Oscar joins me after a few moments. "Don't you ever wish you could just touch the clouds?" he asks.

Those few simple words set off a pang agony in my chest. God, I hate this. It's like stitching a wound and ripping it back open again. Oscar stares at me, looking for an answer. "N-no," I choke out.

He stares back out into the distance, and either ignores or doesn't realize the discomfort I feel with this question. "I always wanted to. It fascinated me beyond what I can describe. I remember how I was always jealous of birds when I was a child."

I don't reply, other things meddling in my thoughts.

"It was my dream," he whispers.

I feel pressure building from behind my eyes. "W-why didn't you follow it?"

Oscar shrugs. "My fathe—step-father, I mean. He didn't support me." He heaves a deep sigh. "My father did, though."

"What happened to him?" I blurt out, not meaning to.

Oscar looks down at the ground beneath us before turning to face me. "He… he died. I was 17."

I let out a loose breath. "I'm so… I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine. It was a long time ago."

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I finally say, "My father died when I was 11."

Oscar looks at me. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"He was a good man. He supported my dreams and provided for our family."

"What happened?" he asks, his voice a low whisper, as if there were someone listening in.

I shake my head. "He just… he just left one day and never came back. That's all we ever heard."

Oscar sighs deeply, and he presses his lips together. "What is your dream, Corinne?"

Those words. I lose my focus, and then I'm no longer on the roof, but in the balloon, so, so close to _him_. Hands pull me back to reality. I suddenly see Oscar kneeling over me, and I realize I'm on the ground. "Marie! Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes frantic. "You started falling over the wall."

I sit up slowly and try to blink away the black dots clouding my vision. "I'm sorry. I just…" I trail off as I look for the right words. "I remembered something."

"About what?" he asks. His eyes search my face, as if looking for a clue as to why I'm so messed up.

I pull my legs up to my chest and lay my head on my knees. "I lived here a long time ago, Oscar. I came to Paris when I was 17 to pursue my dreams for life. I lived my dream here and stayed for many years." He looks at me in confusion. "When I was 21, I was banished from Paris. The love of my life didn't even bat an eye as I left, he didn't do anything to stop it. He told me to come back after eight years, and I did, but when I tried to come back he said he didn't want to see me." I struggle to keep my voice from wavering.

"That's…" Oscar shakes his head. "That's horrible. Why would he do that?"

My eyes fill with tears. "I-i don't… I don't know."

He sighs. "When does James come into play?"

I smile a bit at his name. "I saw him fighting in the town square, how he bested them all. It was breathtaking." Oscar raises an eyebrow at that but says nothing. "He saw me watching him, so he introduced himself one day, and it just went from there."

He nudges my shoulder. "Glad to see Jamie still has some skills with the ladies. He was terrible when he was younger. A blushing, stuttering mess, I say."

I remember that's how I was at first. When I would see _him_ , I would get nervous and giggly. My face would turn red when he would speak, and it seemed like I couldn't get a whole sentence out without losing my train of thought. Now I know it wasn't real love. Now I know that it was all a lie.

I force myself to smile. I stand and set a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Thank you for being here for me. It's great to have a friend like you."

Oscar smiles. "Of course. There's not a thing in the world I wouldn't do for you."

* * *

His words race through my mind, over and over like they'll never cease. It's dizzying. _There's not a thing in the world I wouldn't do for you._ He had said that. God, no. He couldn't have. He knows how I feel about James. He couldn't be doing this to me. Right?

I shake my head. No. He doesn't mean it that way. He means it like… like a sister, or a friend. Yes, a friend. We're friends. Just friends. He doesn't—can't—feel anything for me. I glance over at him. He's smiling, such a natural smile, too, I realize. No people besides the Baudins could possess this quality. To be able to smile when there's absolutely nothing to smile about is something I could never do.

A hand grabs me, and I nearly shriek. I swing my elbow, hitting them, and they release me, falling to the ground. "Oh, dear God!" A number of curses fall out of his mouth.

I gasp. "James! I am so sorry!" I offer him a hand, and he takes it willingly. "You have to stop sneaking up on me like that!"

He curses again. I move his hand from his face and see that there's no blood, but there will definitely be a bruise. "Have you ever thought of looking before you strike?" he asks, but instead of anger, he actually sounds amused.

I shrug. "Not really. Usually when somebody grabs me, his intent is to kill. I could've done a lot worse to you."

"Go figure."

Oscar clears his throat from behind us. "Am I… am I missing something?"

James eyes flicker to me for a moment, but quickly return to his cousin's. "No, but I would like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

Oscar smirks, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He bows. "Of course, dear cousin."

James turns to me. "Stay."

My eyes narrow. "I'm not a dog."

He smiles and kisses my head. "I know that." And then he's walking away, dragging Oscar by the ear into a store.

I giggle. This conversation is, no doubt, James asking Oscar what we've been doing together for the past couple days. I'm out here for what feels like an hour, but I know it could only be a few minutes. As I slouch against a column, a light flashes out of the corner of my eye, but in a second it's gone. It flashes again. For a few minutes I ignore it, but then I can't take it anymore. I head in the direction. It leads to an alley. _Great_ , I think. _Just great. Alleys are sure my friends, aren't they?_ Shaking my head, I slowly, cautiously enter the alley. And, of course, it's dark. Just my luck.

"H-hello?" I whisper with a shaky voice. "W-who's t-there." I curse myself for sounding like such a coward, but still I tread on. "Come out," I say, my voice more sure of itself. I jump when a bunch of metal things clang together. Stupidly—that's what my mind screams, at least—I move toward it. My heart pounds in rapid movements. My hands shake.

Everything screams at me to move away. Everything tells me this is dangerous. Everything tries to get me to go back to James and stay there. Everything says it. Except one thing.

That stupid, irresponsible, reckless part of me where all my insanity lives.

I move closer. The metal rattles again. I pick up a box and move it to the side. Something jumps out, and I jump back, landing on the ground. I shriek as a large blond cat chases another blond cat around the alley. The larger one almost seems to growl at the smaller one, who hides behind me.

I look around. "Uh… shoo!" I wave my hand at the larger one, and it flees. I turn to look at the one behind me and kneel, slowly extending my hand. "H-hi," I say. It looks curiously at it for a moment, but as my fingers touch its head, it starts purring. I smile and start stroking its head. It's an older cat, maybe 12 or 13, and it looks a bit malnourished, but there's something about it that reminds me of something.

I look at it again. Our eyes meet. Its eyes… so incredibly blue. Then I remember. The blond coat, the blue eyes. It could only be—

It meows at me, and I jump. "Miette," I breathe. "I can't believe…" I trail off as I feel my voice getting caught in my throat. It's her. It's really her. It has to be her. "Miette," I say again.

The cat meows again and jumps in my lap. Tears start streaming down my face. "I… this can't be real." I stand up, Miette in my arms. I start to walk, but I stop when I see a white paper stuck between two boxes. I grab it and smooth it from its crumpled state.

 _Meet me in the square. Midnight. Come alone._

I almost laugh. Midnight _._ Figures.

* * *

After discarding the note in a pocket inside my dress, I join Oscar and a half-frantic James back where I left. They run up to me. James asks "Are you alright?" the same time Oscar asks "Is that a cat?"

I smile. "I found my cat," I say.

James looks at her curiously. "Are you sure?"

I nod as Oscar reaches out to pet Miette. She hisses and moves up my shoulder. "Miette!" I exclaim. "Be nice!" Oscar flashes a smile at her before stepping back next to James.

I think I hear him mutter "stupid cat," but I'm not exactly sure.

* * *

I sneak out 10 minutes before midnight with Miette on my heels. I feel a sense of déjà vu as I walk through these streets again, the first time for James, and now… who knows what I'm walking into. Again, my body screams that this is not a good idea. But, as it usually does, the insanity doesn't listen. This is what it thrives on. Recklessness and the midnight hour.

I reach town square within five minutes, but there's no one except my shadow. The seconds seem to tick on as slow as my heartbeat. It's minutes later when I hear footsteps from behind me. I jump and face my conference partner, who is hooded in a black cloak.

"Are you… Are you a friend?" I ask slowly. The slightest nod confirms my question. The figure moves closer in sure footsteps. It's taller than me but by less than an inch, but they feel larger. Silence passes. "So, uh, are you going to tell me what this is about, or…?" I trail off.

The person sniffles. _Sniffles?_ I raise an eyebrow. "Are you alright?" I ask.

Suddenly, the person's arms are wrapped around me. I gasp as they bury their face in my shoulder. "Corinne," they whisper.

"Wha—?"

The figure pulls off the hood. I nearly choke.

"Renée," I breathe.

Tears are streaming down her face—her _real_ face—but she smiles all the same. "Corinne."

I gasp and embrace her, letting the tears fall. I'm surprised I still have tears to shed. "I thought… But you… How?" I ask.

She glances around, as if there were someone watching us. "We have to go somewhere private."

I groan. " _Please_ tell me it's not an alley."

Renée laughs, a sound that I barely remember but so dearly miss. "No, no. Follow me." So Miette and I do. And I can't keep the smile off my face.

She leads through turns and bends, stairs and drops, in such an order that no person with ordinary senses could ever remember. After a while, we reach an old building, and she opens the door for me to enter, and I do it without any hesitation whatsoever. Then we climb up flight of stairs after flight of stairs. I'm out of breath by the time we reach a door. She takes me inside, and I gasp. The room is completely decorated with furniture and rugs.

I turn to Renée. "Do you live here?"

She nods and gestures to the sofa. "Please, sit." We sit across from each other, but neither of us says anything. I just stroke Miette and hope there will be a break in this silence soon.

I clear my throat. "Um… would you care to explain how you're not dead?"

Renée chuckles lightly. "Oh, right. That. Uh, well… it's complicated."

I cross one of my legs over the other. "I've got time."

She sighs. "Alright. Well, I can't tell you everything. Not yet, at least. But I can tell you that they're lying to you."

I narrow my eyes. "Who?"

She stares at me for a long moment before saying, "Everyone in the palace. Don't believe a word they say. They're liars, all of them."

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

Renée sets a hand on my shoulder. "I will tell you more when I can, Corinne. I promise you that. But I can't. Not right now."

"Please, Renée," I say, "I've been in the dark for so long. There has to be more. Please."

She sighs. "I…" I'm afraid she's about to say no when she turns to me, but instead, she says, "I'm a part of the White Cobras."

* * *

 **(A/N: After further consideration I've decided that this will be the last chapter of After All These Years. This story has gotten way out of hand, and I haven't been getting very good reviews, so it will now be abandoned. I'm sorry.**

 **Lol. Just kidding. I would NEVER abandon this story after the development that's happening. It is awesome! I can't wait to publish the next chapters. I just finished c. 15, and I'm going to get started on 16 tonight hopefully. It was only a couple days ago that I realized I needed to pick up the pace. I've decided that there will be at least 22 or 23 chapters because of the speed I'm going at.**

 **Anyway, replies:**

 **Despicable Margo: THanks for reviewing!**

 **Paris4eva: Ugh. I know! It was a shocking revelation for me as well!**

 **IcyFairy: I've decided not to say, but fairly soon!**

 **LaLove: Thanks so much for reviewing!**

 **Esmee-lynn: Haha. Good 'ol Oscar. And, yes, Oscar's intentions are clear to Corinne. Hee. I totally used the smolder from tangled. Louis is just all kinds of stupid, right? And your French philosopher doesn't have to be affiliated with Philippe if you don't want him to, but if you do, so be it! Hee, hee. I don't care what any of you say. Philippe will remain forever in my favor. :P And that is very good to know! I may need to PM you sometime soon for some French history. :D Dno't worry! Your questions will be answered soon! And, yes! I have heard about the Hans books! I can't wait! (I'm way too old for them, but who cares, right?)**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Well, better late than never, right? :D**

 **Guest: She's gone through a lot. "It's like stitching a wound and ripping it back open again" is one of the quotes from this chapter. Hopefully she'll get better soon!**

 **Lyssita Lennon: I swear, watching one of my mom's soaps reminds me of the Baudins so much. Haha. They scare me a little. And that's what I figured. You don't seem like the type to ship anyone with Corinne but Louis. I've written Philippe into one of the next few chaps, but I'll have to add Bertram into 16 or 17. And it's fine for not reviewing until yesterday. I missed so many reviews on yours. :) Whoops. Indeed, I do update on Tuesdays! Well, when everything runs smoothly, at least...**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Tell me what you think is going to happen next!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	13. Stupidity Is Part of the Package

_White Cobra._ The name rings through my mind. _White Cobra._ What is a White Cobra? And what is with these names? Could they seriously not have come up with something better. _White Cobra._ Renée is a White Cobra. I shake my head.

"And what is that?" I ask, but already partly knowing.

She lets out a breath, and a near ferocious glint appears in her eyes. "The White Cobras are a rebel group set to bring down the cowards who rule this damned country."

I nearly gasp, but I don't see why it surprises me. "You mean… the king." A flicker of hope—a flicker of revenge, more like—passes through me. _What goes around comes around, my dear,_ I think.

Renée shakes her head. "I can't tell you. Not yet, at least."

I stare at her a moment before asking, "Why?"

"I just can't right now, Corinne," she says. "It's too dangerous for any more people to know."

"How many people are in on this?" I ask.

"I can't tell you that, either."

I groan, folding my arms across my chest. "Why do I feel like I'm being so left out of everything?"

Renée rolls her eyes. "Corinne, I will tell you soon enough, but you must be patient. No one can know about this encounter, not even your beau."

"How—"

Renée holds up a hand. "I know all about your dear James. I've been watching you for sometime, hon."

"Well, that's not creepy."

She shakes her head. "Do you recall after you got rejected and started to get attacked?" I furrow my eyebrows, not understanding where she's going with this. "Remember the person who saved you from those men? Well, that was me."

The angel. I hadn't even thought of it again until now. It was a dream, a hallucination. I was sure of it. Renée? It was Renée? She'd been here all this time? My mind runs in circles, trying to comprehend this.

"You mean…" I trail off, not able to finish.

She nods. "Yes. That was me."

"White Cobra," I whisper. This information is exhausting. "Why is everyone I know a rebel?"

Renée doesn't answer and instead says, "You have to leave now. It's not safe to be away for too long." She moves to grab my hand, but I snatch it away from her.

"No! I haven't seen you in eight years and after dragging me from my place and having one of the most important conversations of my life, you just decide to leave it at that? What is wrong with you? I thought we were friends." I shoot up from my seat and start walking toward the door.

Renée rushes over and stops me with her iron-hard grip. " _You_ have no idea how much I have risked to protect you, to bring you here tonight. If my superior finds out, things won't go very well for me."

I jerk away from her. "I. Don't. Care." I feel the anger radiating from my insides. God, I missed this feeling.

I see Renée's jaw set. " _You don't care? You don't care what I've done for you?_ " she asks through gritted teeth.

"You've done _nothing_ for me," I growl.

Her lips turn into a scowl. "I have protected you time and time again these past eight years, Corinne. Who do you think switched the documents to save you from that fire? Who do you think spread word of your false accusation and banishment? Because of _me,_ your and your mother's ashes aren't spread over the ground. Because of _me,_ no one in Paris looks down on you, thinks you're a traitor for what you were accused of. You have more to thank me for than you know."

Her words sting like fire. I had no idea.

I can see the tears enveloping her eyes as she says, "Do you know everything I've given up for this?" She holds up her left hand, and I suddenly notice the diamond on her third finger. "I'm _married_ , Corinne. I have kids. I rarely get to see them once every four or five months, if that. They don't know me, they don't recognize me when I come home. Do you know how hard that is?"

Guilt throbs inside my chest. Again, I had no idea. I knew she had kids and was married, but I… I hadn't thought about the toll all this put on her. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I had no idea."

Renée's gaze moves from mine to the ground. "How could you? It's not anyone's concern except mine."

I set a hand on her shoulder and say, "No, you're my friend, and any of your problems are mine. You should know that."

"It's been so long since I've seen you. I didn't know if you were the same girl that left eight years ago."

My heart sinks. No. I would never be the same girl that left here.

She reaches out and wraps one of my brown locks around her finger. "You cut your hair," she whispers," and dyed it. Why?"

I shake my head. "You just noticed?"

Renée laughs. "No, I did before, but there were too many other things on my mind to ask."

"I cut it because everyone would know who I was. There aren't many blonds in Paris, you know."

"No, there aren't," she says. After a moment of long silence, as if she were contemplating saying it, she asks, "Have you… have you seen him since… you know."

It takes me a moment to realize that she's talking about _him_. "I…" A lump gathers in my throat, but I force it away. _No,_ I tell myself. _No. I cannot be afraid of speaking of him. I can't let him have the satisfaction of still affecting me._ "Oh, I, uh… no. I haven't. You probably already know what happened."

She shakes her head. "What?"

"Louis"—I have to force out his name—"he… said he didn't want to see me."

Renée's face flickers in what looks like confusion. "Wha—?" She stops herself. "Did this come from him?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Did he say this to your face?"

I slowly shake my head. "N-no. He sent out a guard telling me to leave Paris and never come back."

Renée's eyes narrow. "That can't be right," I think I hear her mutter, but I can't be sure." She shakes her head. "It's getting late. You have to leave."

She takes me outside, but this time I don't object.

* * *

Keeping my mouth shut is a lot harder than I would have thought. Just watching Aramina mope around makes me want to tell her, but I have to obey Renée or bad things will come my way if she finds out. Renée loves her drama.

The tea I'm drinking tastes more metallic than usual as I watch Aramina stare off into nowhere. "Are you okay?" I ask, setting down my cup on a saucer.

She barely shakes her head. "I thought you were gone for four years, Corinne, but you're alive and… kind of well." I scoff. "But I haven't seen Renée since you allegedly died, and now… she's turned up dead. What if…" She trails off, as if she's afraid to voice her thoughts. "What if she's not really dead?"

I so desperately want to tell her the truth, but I… Renée will skin me if I do. Damn rebel.

Sighing, I jump up from the sofa and run out the door. Aramina's used to this from me by now, so she doesn't question it. I run out of her apartment building and down the busy main street. There's only one person I have on my mind right now.

I turn, street after street I go. I probably look like a maniac to the other civilians, but one can only do so much. It takes only five minutes to get from here to the Black Cobra's building, but by then I'm already gasping for air. Damn, am I out of shape.

"Hey, you okay there, sweetheart?" a voice asks.

I look up from my hunched position and see Oscar with a wicked smirk spread across his face. The other guard next to him starts snickering. I stand and walk towards Oscar. I move closer, as if I were about to kiss him, until our noses touch. "Go. To. Hell." I step back from him and fold my arms across my chest.

Oscar's friend bursts out laughing. "She got you good, mate!" I furrow my eyebrows because I don't think I got him good at all.

Oscar laughs sarcastically. "Go away, Pierre."

Pierre looks from me to Oscar then back to me. He bows. "And whose acquaintance do I have the pleasure of being in?" He straightens up.

I smile lightly—fakely. This is not what I came here to do. "I'm—"

Oscar snorts. "She's my cousin's 'sweetheart.'"

I roll my eyes. "Is James here?" I ask, changing the subject.

He looks up at the sky. "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I have no idea."

"Stop being a jerk," I growl through gritted teeth.

Oscar smirks. "Give me one good reason why."

In a fit of rage—something that I haven't had in so long, and it feels so good—I grab his sword out of its sheath and point it at his chest. "Don't double-cross me, boy. It will get ugly, and it will get ugly fast."

His smirk turns into a snarl. "He's in a meeting with his father. They won't be down for another half-hour at least. Now give me back my sword."

I smile sweetly and set the sword in his gloved hands. "Thank you, hon." I nod my head at Pierre before strutting off.

Shaking my head, I mutter "stupid boys" and sit on a bench— _the_ bench, I realize. The same one I had met James on. I smile as I remember it. How I was so drawn to him, how I completely ignored my conscience when I went with him. It was dangerous, yes, but thinking back, I realize now that it was all so worth it.

* * *

Time goes by slowly. Each tick of the clock on the front of the building feels like it's taunting me. People come and go; slowly, quickly, whatever they choose for the day. But I… I just sit and wait. It's better than staying with Oscar and his idea of humor. It's almost like he's a different person than the one I meet on the roof.

As time goes by, the crowd thins. I stand. James should be out by now, hopefully. As a musketeer, I only had to sit through two meetings a week, but I hurried those along as much as I could because meetings never were my strong point. These Black Cobras do things so differently, though, so I wouldn't be surprised it lasted for quite some time.

I start walking. I don't really know where, but I honestly don't care right now. I haven't seen much of Paris since I've been back, which has already been a couple of weeks. I say nothing to anyone as I walk street after street. If anyone had called me, I'm not even sure if I would have heard them. This is all I need. Paris, me, and, hopefully, James.

The minutes don't drag on anymore, but I'm sure they fly by, even though it feels like it's been mere minutes since I left my bench. I climb up the ladder. this roof is higher than the one Oscar and I go on, but the height still doesn't bother me. In fact, I feel refreshed, relieved even.

I breathe in and breathe out over and over again. Up here—up where the air is at least a little bit thinner than down below—I feel memories coming back. But, to my surprise, they don't make me cry, they don't need me want to cry, they don't even hurt, not even a little bit. It's like… it's like I'm free. Free from banishment. Free from my emotions. Free from the danger that lurks below. I feel nothing. Just an empty feeling inside my stomach. But it feels good. It feels like I'm young again, like I don't have a care in the world.

I thought things were perfect with James.

It turns out that nothing is perfect. Except for maybe up here. Up here where I can be alone.

Minutes tick by. I just sit and watch the sun move in the sky. Darker and darker it gets until there's just a faint orange glow surrounded by a deep blue. I know James will be looking for me, but my only wish right now is to stay right here in this place where I'm untouchable, where I'm alone. I cannot receive a greater gift than that.

All at once, at least I think it's all at once, darkness envelops Paris, leaving only the faint light Inside of holes to light the darkness. I breathe in again, slowly, cautiously, letting the slight cold tremble through me.

I stare at the road I had come on so many weeks ago, and before that 12 years ago. I could just go home. This has all been so hard, so frustrating, so demoralizing that sometimes I just wish that it could all be over. Sometimes I just wish that I never would have come here in the first place. the farm isn't that bad. I could have lived a long and happy life. But then I never would have James.

James. What would I have done if he had never shown up in my life? I have no idea, and I hope that I'll never have to find out. He has saved me from everything I feared. Almost, at least. There's still things here that I fear will never go away, _him_ included. Sometimes I hope, I dream, that he will end up dead. I will never forgive him. Ever.

I look toward the palace and loose a breath. It's lighted up In each window. If I tried, I bet I could find _his_ room, but there is absolutely no reason to. Revenge is not what I need in my life. All I need right now is to get Baudin out of his position of authority, and then Philippe and his gang. After that, I can just finally live my life in full without another tragedy happening to me. Wishful thinking, I know, but that's all I can do now until everything is settled. But who knows when that will be?

I look again. Such fond memories. I sigh deeply. How I wish I could go back in that time, but it's too late now.

I climb down from the roof, taking all these thoughts, all these memories with me.

* * *

The night is perfectly quiet. There's not a person out as I walk. Each street is only lit by a lamp at each corner, but it doesn't help unmask the shadows that lurk nearby. I hear every breath, every footstep I make. I'm fully aware of everything around me, and I'm sure that I could let nothing slip by. But even though I know that fact's true, I have this lingering feeling that somebody is watching me.

I move quicker, each footstep making a clinking on the ground. A sense of unease prickles down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. _Calm down,_ I tell myself. _You're being paranoid._

Swallowing, I move on. The streets seem to drag on. My heartbeat accelerates, and my breathing starts becoming quick and rapid. _What's happening?_ I ask myself. The world seems blurry, but I know it's just me. I shake my head and start taking deep, slow breaths. It takes a few minutes, but eventually everything is so much clearer.

I continue walking, but I realize that I've lost my way. I groan and start walking straight. Straight always seems to lead home. After walking for a few minutes, I realize that I'm not going anywhere near Aramina's home, but instead the opposite way. But for some reason I keep going, as if something's pulling me—forcing me. I could try to fight it, but there's this feeling that I need to follow.

I don't know how—or why for that matter—but I end up standing in front of the palace gates. My breath nearly catches. It's even more beautiful up close. I haven't seen it in this much detail since that day so many weeks ago, but even then, it wasn't as amazing as this. It's the lights. The lights light up everything from the windows to the fountains that spurt water.

I walk along the gate, letting my fingers drag on each cold bar. It's almost like a prison, I realize. It keeps everyone in and everyone else out.

"Wait! Who goes there?" a voice full of authority says.

I stop in my tracks, looking around. "W-who's there?" Two figures appear out of the darkness. Black Cobras. Guards. I sigh in relief. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Are you the replacement for the maid?"

I look at him, confused. "The maid?"

The one that spoke, the taller one, says, "The one de Bossé just fired."

"De Bossé? She's still here?" I ask.

The man nods. "Head maid ever since Hélène retired."

I almost gasp. "You mean—"

"Terrible woman, I know, but good pay," he says.

The shorter one snickers and turns to his partner. "How would you know, David?"

David grunts. "My sisters work there."

"Which ones? The tall ones or the short ones?"

David elbows him. "Both, actually."

I clear my throat, and they turn to me. "What's that about a position open?"

"Eli, tell her."

Eli, a tall (but not as tall as David), skinny boy with brown hair says, "She said to look for a young, pretty girl and send her in immediately. Do you want the job? You'd save our necks if you said yes. De Bossé only gave us until dawn to find a girl."

I smile. "Sure, why not?"

David directs me to where to go, and I practically prance past the fountains and up the steps. I knock on the door, and it opens within two of them. Madame de Bossé, a bit grayed but still somewhat youthful, answers the door with the same scowl as I remember.

"Who are you?" she asks, and I nearly laugh.

"Marie, madame. I would like to apply for a job as a maid."

She shows a vicious smile. "So, those idiots have found a replacement for dear Nancy? Oh, that's too bad. I was quite looking forward to giving them a good thrashing. Those boys need one, anyway. But, I suppose you'll do. Come back tomorrow, and I'll have you trained." Without another word, she slams the door in my face.

A smile spreads across my face, and I don't even realize how much of an idiot I am for getting myself caught up in this. I walk past the fountains again and look over my shoulder at the beautiful palace before me. I see a shadow standing on a balcony, but as I try to make out anything defining, whoever it is quickly recedes inside.

* * *

 **(A/N: OMG, CORINNE, WHAT THE FREAKIN' FUDGE IS WRONG WITH YOU?! SERIOUSLY! *Shakes head* She is so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so (and so on) stupid! I'd rant on this some more, but I want to leave you something to rant on, so I'll stop now. So? How'd you like this chapter? Gursh, it REALLY needed proofread, and please forgive me if I didn't catch every little thing. :D Anyway, who do you think the person on the balcony was? Heehee. I think you could figure it out fairly easily. It's just Corinne's favorite person in the world! (Note my sarcasm. Lol.) And how do you like Renée's explanation on everything? Some of your questions are answered, but I'm sure many more have risen. I will try to cover everything that you're asking, but if I can't I will try to respond at the end of the last chapter. And speaking of the last chapter, it is near! I'm on chapter 17 right now (which, by the way, is one of my favorites). I wonder what I'm going to do once I'm finished with it. I have no idea…**

 **Anyway, replies:**

 **Paris4eva: AHHHHH! I know it's so awesome, right? Heehee. I love playing with you guys. ;)**

 **Decembra1998: Thanks for all your reviews! I'm so glad you liked the chapters! And I'm your favorite FF writer? That's so nice! Thank you! Heehee. Oscar is a babe. ;P In a good way… I don't know. Aaaaawwwww! Another puppy kitten lover. *Hugs* Thank you again for all your amazing comments! They are so awesome!**

 **Turquisea: BWAHAHAHA! You have no idea how much I love that quote! And, yasssssss! Miette is back! But… I don't have the patience to make her talk. I'm curious about how you feel about Oscar. When you figure it out, let me know!**

 **Guest: Thanks for reviewing! have I given you enough answers for now? I know there may still be some unanswered questions, but hopefully I'll get to them soon!**

 **Guest: All of them? Are you sure? I think there's one still missing. ;P It's not time to find out yet, but we'll get there pretty soon! Just be patient, young pupil. :D**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Heh, heh. It's just too much fun to mess with you guys. :P**

 **Esmee-lynn: Hm. You don't trust Oscar? That's very interesting… Haha. I know, right? Animals have that freaky sixth sense. And if you look closer at that cat scene, I incorporated something else in there! Let me know if you find it because it's pretty tricky! And, yes. That will most definitely be the most difficult part of the love triangle. I can't say anything more. Ugh! I knew you would mention that "true love" quote! And what's great is that I can explain it to you! Okay, so Corinne thought what she and Louis had was "true love" as in, the one person you can love that way in the universe "true love". So after her banishment, she lost all faith in that philosophy. She believes in love, but not "the one person you're meant to be with for your entire life" true love. You know? I'm so glad you liked Miette coming back! It took me literally the moment I was writing about the cats to realize what I could do with them. Lol. And I don't think I fooled many people when it came to Renée. :D Hopefully this chapter clears up some questions! Indeed. Philippe is very lucky to be under the V.P.P. (Villain Protection Program) along with Preminger and Hans. Thanks so much! If I think of any questions and whatnot, I'll be sure to PM you. :)**

 **Lyssita Lennon: You know, I had absolutely no idea you hated Miette. That's interesting and explains why she wasn't in _The Phantom's Musketeer_. I don't usually include her in my stories mainly because pets are freakin' hard to keep track of. (Which is why she'll probably be scarcely mentioned.) Yes! Go and reread _Banished_ , but I have to warn you that I hadn't intended it to become a full-length story until the last chapter, really. But you may find some things in there that you might have otherwise missed. Hopefully this chapter explains a couple things, but I know it won't answer everything just yet. In due time. In due time. :D Oh, and by the way, you're making me listen to POTO and LND music while I'm writing, and I think it's start to affect the tone. But… I can't stop. :D *Sings* PAAAAAST THE POINT OF NOOOO RETUUUURN!**

 **Thanks for so many reviews, guys! I'm almost to 100! And to reward you guys for that, once I reach 100 reviews, I will post some of the next chapter on my profile!**

 **Thanks and keep reviewing!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	14. Rules

"You what?!" James shouts. I had just finished telling him about what happened last night, and I can most definitely say that he is not happy.

I bite my lip. "I just thought it would be good to get information about… things. You get that, right?" He sighs and starts rubbing his temples. Actually, I hadn't been thinking about getting information. I'm not sure if I was thinking at all, really. After thinking about it for a while, I realized how stupid that was, but I can't take it back now. Well, I could, but there's too much opportunity here to pass up.

James sits down on Aramina's sofa. He puts his face in his hands. "You are going to be the death of me."

I smile and sit down next to him, so close that our knees touch. I set a hand on his shoulder. "No, your worrying will be. I am perfectly able to take care of myself."

He nods slowly. "I know. I just… I worry about you. You have no idea how important you are to me."

I brush my lips against his cheek. "No, I don't think you have any idea how much you mean to me."

He smiles. "Then make me understand, Corinne."

Without another breath, I press our lips together. He moves so tantalizingly slow as his fingers stroke my face—gently, cautiously, as if I'd break at the slightest touch. I lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and letting my fingers drag down his neck and onto his chest. He sets a hand on my back and pulls me closer. I gasp when he pulls away and moves his lips to my neck. Every touch, every breath, every time he sets his lips against my skin—it smolders and burns me, fills me to the point of intoxication. And I love it. God, I love it.

When he moves his lips back to my own, I grasp the back of his head and tangle my hands into his dark hair. Our shoulders, both pressed against the couch, touch. James wraps an arm around my waist. I can barely think. I can barely breathe. All of those things happen in my moments of emotional crisis, but now… it's a whole new thing. Let breathing waver, let thinking cease. I could live in this moment for the rest of my life.

James pulls away suddenly and says, "You need to get to work."

I start laughing, completely out of breath, with red-coated cheeks. Shaking my head, I leave Aramina's apartment, an unmistakable smile on my face. The smile doesn't waver as I walk through town nor does it when I approach the gates.

"Hey! It's that girl!" I hear a guard shout. As I get closer, I realize it's Eli and David again.

"Hi," I say. "Can you tell me what de Bossé's mood is like today?"

David smirks at him before Eli removes his hat, revealing a purple handprint on the side of his face. He quickly puts that hat back on when I gasp. "Crazy as ever."

I shake my head. "That's awful."

Eli sighs and waves me away. "Good luck today."

Before I'm gone, David adds, "Hey, be nice to my sisters!"

I nod, and then I'm gone from sight. I knock on the door confidently, though on the inside I'm slightly scared. Madame de Bossé opens it with another scowl as a greeting and says, "You are late." I nearly laugh.

"I'm sorry, madame. I got a little caught up in—"

She snorts. "I don't want to hear a monologue about your morning, girl. You're here to work, and that's what you'll do. I'll have no dawdling. Is that clear?"

I nod. "Yes, madame."

"Good," she says, then hands me folded black fabric. "Your uniform."

"Black?" I whisper to myself.

De Bossé raises an eyebrow. "Yes. It was changed from those dreadful colors to black around six years ago. Good riddance, too. Those things were so distracting." Without another word, she grabs my arm and starts dragging me through the palace.

I gasp—just as I had gasped the first time I'd seen it—except this time it wasn't one of awe, but instead of shock. The palace… what have they done to it? On the outside it looks the same as I always remembered it, but on the inside…

There's no decorations, not even a picture. The walls are completely bare, repainted a dull gray, and the floors are carpeted with black rugs. I barely have time to take it all in before de Bossé pulls me along. Every hallway is the same endless tunnel of drab. Even when we go down that oh-so-familiar stairwell, I notice the chandelier is even gone. I curse a thousand times over in my head.

We stop when we get to the end of a hallway where four brown-haired girls wait—two of them tall, two short. David's sisters, I realize. They all wear black uniforms and stand at attention before their employer.

"Ladies," de Bossé begins, "this is…" She trails off. It takes me a second to realize she's waiting for me to say my name.

"Marie," I whisper.

"Marie!" she says loudly. "She will be your new co-worker. I want her trained today. Now, off to word, all of you!" The four girls nod, and Madame de Bossé stalks off.

I look at them nervously, still clutching my uniform in my hands. "H-hi," I say shakily. They just stare at me.

After a very long and awkward moment of silence, a girl—the tallest one—speaks. "Get changed. We need to get started." I nod and move to a room to put on my uniform. Once I'm done, only the girl who spoke is waiting for me. "The others have moved to their stations," she explains, her voice completely in monotone. "I will be responsible for training you." She turns to me. "My name is Trish."

"I'm—"

Trish holds out a hand, telling me to stop. "Speak as little as possible. That's one of the rules." I nod. "Rule number one is never, ever talk to the royalty or councilmen." I wasn't planning to, I think. "Rule number two is always do what you're assigned. No questions, just do it. Rule number three…" She goes on and on about different rules, some I understand fully, some I don't, but all throughout I say nothing.

We start with sweeping the stairs. Trish only speaks to give me the occasional reprimand and such, and I feel the silence pair down on us. I try to busy my thoughts with things like James and what I'll do once Baudin's taken down, but it's hard to focus while being surrounded by such a difference in atmosphere than what I was used to.

After sweeping, then it's mopping. After mopping, it's dusting. After dusting, it's waxing. The list goes on and on, to the point that by the fourth hour, I'm completely exhausted, and I still have eight more hours to go.

We take lunch at noon. Everyone files into the kitchen in silence, and it stays that way as we fill our bowls with soup. "Can I at least ask you all your names?" I murmur, barely intelligible. The three girls look at Trish with my question in their eyes. She gives a slight nod.

"I'm Reagan," the shortest one whispers. She can't be much older than 13.

"Delilah," the second tallest answers.

I look at the third girl, but she looks at Trish. "Her name's Marlene," Trish answers. "She's deaf."

 _Perfect for this job_ , I think. "It's nice to meet you all."

Trish nods and resumes eating, as does everyone else. I take that as my cue to be silent.

The rest of the day drags on in the same mundane silence. By three o'clock I'm begging for something to say, but I know it will only lead to bad things. I shake my head and try to immerse myself in my work, but I keep getting distracted by the walls around me. So plain, so dry, I think. Why would he do something like this? He had always loved the decorations, during the holiday season, especially. I can't figure out why this has happened. Everything's changed so much.

I'm so distracted by this, I gasp and trip as I walk down the stairs. I, luckily, am able to grab the railing before I fall, but the jar full of marbles I was supposed to transport to a parlor slips from my grasp. Before I can even gasp, the jar shatters and marbles fly out everywhere. Trish and her sisters come running as I put a hand over my mouth.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't—"

"Shush!" Trish hisses. "Start cleaning quickly before Madame comes!" We grab brooms and start sweeping them up into a bucket, but there's too many. Every time I think we get somewhere, more appear.

Our worst nightmare becomes real when we hear that dreaded voice from behind us. "What has happened here?!" Madame de Bossé shouts.

"Marbles were dropped, madame," Trish says, and I can hear the fear filling her voice.

"And who is responsible for this?"

"I-I don't know," she breathes—lies. She's purposely not naming names. How bad could the punishment be if she's trying to protect me from it?

Madame de Bossé's eyes flicker to me and then back to Trish. She grabs her by the chin and pulls her close. "Don't lie to me, girl," de Bossé growl.

Trish's muscles tense. "I'm not." I glance at Reagan, Delilah, and Marlene. They stare at their sister, their eyes wide with shock—or fear. I'm not exactly sure which.

"Well then," Madame de Bossé hisses, pure venom in her voice, "I suppose since you don't know, I'll just have to punish you, then."

Trish closes her eyes, as if anticipating the blow, but as de Bossé raises her hand, Marlene steps in front of her sister and points a finger at her chest. Almost gladly, Madame slaps Marlene across her cheek. "You, come with me! We're going to have a little talk." The woman cackles. "A bit of a one-sided talk, though, don't you think?" She starts pulling Marlene away, but my conscience can't stand for this.

"Wait!" I shout. "Don't punish her! It was me."

De Bossé turns around slowly, almost as if contemplating how to strike me. "Oh? Defending the new girl, are we, ladies?" she asks, looking at the other four girls. She shoves Marlene at Trish and grabs me by my collar. "You're going to wish you had never come to this place."

I close my eyes just as Trish had, but a voice cuts off my impending blow. "Don't you dare touch her, de Bossé!" I open my eyes and see damn Philippe Rousseau walking down the stairs. My stomach turns in stone-cold agony.

She lowers her hand. "And why is that, councilman?" she asks, rage evident in her voice. I have almost never seen a person so hopeful of hurting someone.

Philippe stops in front of her, a frown on his face. "That girl is with James Baudin. He hears of anyone touching her, you will be fired within a day. Is that understood?"

De Bossé scowls, but says, "Yes, sir."

Philippe turns to me with an atrocious smile on his face. I want to gag, but I restrain myself. "Are you, alright, my dear."

My eye twitches. "Y-yes, sir."

He nods at me once, and then leaves. I let out a deep breath. De Bossé glances at me once before turning away. "Clean this mess at once!" she shouts before stomping off.

I look at the other girls and see what looks like fear in their eyes. "Thank you," I whisper.

Three of them nods, but Marlene mouths "Thank you" before they all turn away. We all go back to work, but I can't help but thank myself for helping these girls stand up for themselves.

The rest of the day's work is done in silence. We neither see nor hear Madame again, no doubt because of what she thinks I'll do if I catch her abusing any of these girls again. I'm left to ponder my thoughts as we complete task after task, but it's hard to do anything productive. Only now do I realize how stupid this is.

Why did I come here? What is wrong with me? I'm stupid, so, so stupid. This is stupid, and reckless, and downright insane, but... I can't get past the feeling that I'm needed here. Whether it be for these girls or something else, I have no idea but hopefully I find out soon.

We're done at 6:30. I don't bid them goodbye; I doubt they would answer if I did. I leave, looking back at the palace—the ghost of a place I once knew.

* * *

Aramina says nothing as I retell my tale. Absolutely nothing. But, I can see the sadness in her eyes, the shame on her face. And then I knew.

"Did you work when de Bossé was hired back?" I ask.

She moves her gaze to the ground slowly. "I... yes, I did."

I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head. "Aramina, why didn't you tell me?"

She wraps her arms around her shoulders, as if trying to hold herself together. "I didn't think it mattered."

I stare at her curiously. "Did she hit you?"

Her reply is barely a whisper. "Yes." I try to respond, but she stops me. "Helene was getting older, and she needed some extra assistance to help the maids, so the girls and I decided to do it for her. Then Helene left and de Bossé was promoted again. She was even crueler than before with all her built-up anger. I was the weakest, so she liked to pick on me the most."

My confused expression morphs into rage almost instantaneously. "I..." I begin. "How could you let her do that to you?" I say, trying to calm the anger inside of me.

"I didn't. I left after a few days."

"Did Viveca and Renee do anything about it?"

She shrugs. "I never told them."

"Why not?" I ask, trying to be gentle, but not quite achieving that level.

"It doesn't matter, Corinne. Not anymore. I'm living a perfectly good life right now, okay?"

I think for a moment. She really is. She's at a wonderful place in life. Well, she was before I got here, at least. She has an amazing husband, a beautiful daughter, and then there's me. I've been invading everything. She should've forgotten about me by now, but I keep reminding her that I'm here.

"I should leave," I whisper.

"What?"

"I should leave," I say, a bit more loudly. "I'm being so intrusive, Aramina. You should be living with your family now, not taking care of your grown friend. I need to leave."

Aramina sets a hand on my shoulder, gasping. "Corinne, you don't need to go! You are my best friend. I am glad to help you."

I shake my head. "No, I… I just really need to be alone right now." Such a huge lie. I would actually like to be with people, but this is as good an excuse as I'll get. I set a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Aramina. I'm sorry."

She sighs through her nose, but nods her head. "If that's what you want, then… alright."

"Thank you," I breathe.

"Where will you stay?" she asks.

I move my gaze to my shoes. "I, uh… I'm not sure. I think I'll just find an apartment of my own and use my money I earn from my job."

Aramina nods. "I just… I worry about you being alone."

"What, you think I'm going to hurt myself?"

She bites her lip. "I'm afraid you'll do something you'll regret."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Like, kill someone?"

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. Just… be careful."

I'm about to reply, but a knock on a door cuts me off. I get up to open it, but by the time I'm halfway to the door, it swings open. James walks in—prances, more like—with an unmistakable smile on his face. Before I can ask him what he's so happy about, he picks me up by the waist and presses his lips against mine.

After a second or two, I pull away. "What's happening?"

He sets me down on the ground, the smile still spread across his face. "I have amazing news!"

I laugh. "Well, then by all means tell me."

"I've been promoted!"

I look curiously at him. "Promoted?"

He nods quickly. "Yes! It's incredible!"

"But… aren't you already second-in-command?"

James looks up, as if contemplating what to say next. "Well, there's second-in-command, and there's _real_ second-in-command. You get it?"

I just stare at him.

He sighs and scratches the back of his head. "Um… I don't really know how to explain it. It, uh, it's like I'm the decoration, the one put out for show, but the real second-in-command is one of my father's close friends. He was the one that my father listened to."

I nod. "So, what happened to make you the _real_ second-in-command?"

James lets out a sigh. "He, uh, decided to betray my father."

I snort, feeling the irony of the statement. "Can I ask why this is so important considering that we're going to betray your father?"

He lets out a shallow laugh. "I'm sorry. It's stupid. I just… it was always something that I have been working for for years."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, which my head can barely reach with his height. "It's okay. I know how it feels."

His smile fades instantaneously. "I'm sorry."

I laugh. "Don't apologize. I can't expect you to watch everything you say just because you think it will bring back memories."

He sighs and sets a hand on my cheek. "I just don't want to hurt you again."

"James, you've fixed me beyond what I thought possible."

"Really?"

I nod. "Yes, and I don't really think of my… past that much anymore." Lies. Such lies. But they're worth it if they make him feel better.

He leads me to the couch, and we sit down, me leaning on his arm. I hadn't realized Aramina had left until now, but I'm somewhat glad for that fact.

"I'm moving out," I whisper.

"What?"

"I'm leaving Aramina's. I can't be a burden to her any longer."

James sighs. "Really?" he asks. "You're not serious." I don't reply. "Wait, you're serious? You can't move out of here."

"Why not?"

"Because someone's out to get you! Living alone could be a deathtrap!"

I roll my eyes. "You are so paranoid."

He folds his arms across his chest. "No, I'm just cautious." I don't reply. After a moment of silence, James says, "I have an idea." He looks down at me, so I can see the smirk plastered across his face. "You can move in with me."

I gasp and shoot up from the sofa. "You have to be kidding."

James laughs. "I most assuredly am not, my darling."

I cringe at the name but quickly shake it off. "Yeah, right."

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. "Come on. We have plenty of room."

The thought of living with him actually sounds pretty appealing, but I'm not going to admit that now. "What about your parents?" I ask.

James kisses my cheek and says, "We'll figure it out."

I stare at him curiously. Shaking my head, I wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.

* * *

 **(A/N: WEEEEEELLLLLL, that happened. Yup, that's all I've got to say about that. Sorry, I was going to update yesterday, but I wasn't feeling very well, so I never got around to it. :( Anyway, OMG THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR MY 105 REVIEWS! OMG YOU'RE ALL SO AWESOME! This is my first time hitting 100, as you probably can see. :)**

 **So, I've got some news. I've decided to do a 100 prompt challenge for the Corinne/Louis ship. Yes, the CORINNE/LOUIS ship. There's going to be some different stuff in there, too, but I hope that'll make you happy. I'll be publishing it once this fic is over, which is actually sooner than you all may think. I've started chapter 18 (AND OMG IT'S SO EPIC).**

 **How do you guys feel about this chap? We've got lots of new characters being introduced, which I'm pretty excited about, and the plot will be getting quite intense pretty soon. Stay tuned!**

 **Replies:**

 **Paris4eva: Yes! Renée is married! And that makes everything even more terrible for her. :'( So, you start on the first day of fall? Or… I'm not sure what hemisphere you're on, so maybe the first day of spring. :) I've always thought school should end on the first day of summer and begin on the first day of fall, but, eh, no one listens to me.**

 **Guest: Well, I think Louis is crazy for banishing Corinne in the first place, but you know.**

 **Guest: Your Louis is in the palace. That's all I can say right now… :( In due time, though. In due time.**

 **Guest: Don't worry. You'll see him soon, and as for James… Lol too bad.**

 **Guest: REALLY? You have to be the only person on here who doesn't think Oscar is up to something. And I'm super happy Miette is in the story, too, but be warned that I lose track of pets very easily, so you may not see a lot of her. Haha.**

 **hellototheworld: Thanks so much! And, yes! I know! It must suck having to pretend you're dead… I can't tell you about Viveca right now, but what do you think?**

 **lovelovelove: I will tell you that Monsieur Tréville probably won't be back, but maybe I'll find a way to work him in. :) Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Lol. The Red Cobras haven't been on my mind for a while. Whoops.**

 **Guest: TTTTTTTHHHHHHHAAAAAAAANNNNNNNKKKKKKK YYYYYYYOOOOOOOUUUUUUU! That's so nice! Glad you like the story!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Yes, and that's what I'm trying to do, actually. I'd like to see who you like/don't like and all that! I will tell you that's fairly soon, but I can't say anything more.**

 **Decembra1998: Mmmmmm. Should I tell you? Hmmmmmm. Yes, yes he is. :D Ah, yes, conclusion jumping is even more fun than jumping off cliffs. (*cough, cough* Bella, I'm talking to you.) And I'd hope that she would meet other maids because if not, that means she'd have to do the work by herself. That would seriously suck.**

 **Turquisea: There's one flaw in that spell because I don't have a laptop. :D And if I did, surely you'd want me to write more. :P So many questions, and so many questions I cannot answer. *Sigh***

 **Esmee-lynn: Ugh, yes. It's so sad! The plot will be getting along quicker now, so hopefully everything will be answered. Yes, putting james aside is odd, isn't it? It takes a little thinking, but Corinne does have a right to be a little upset at Renée. I mean, she hadn't seen her for eight years, and no one ever said she couldn't visit. I can tell you it's Louis. There's no plot in it. It's just a little teaser. :D What if I told you Oscar is apart of our love triangle? What if I told you Oscar is endgame? What if I told you a lot of things? Lol. I'll let you decide the first to. The reunion is the scene I mean. It's so obvious, but so obvious that you wouldn't think of it at all. And I think it's so cool that you know how to speak English. I'm trying to learn German, but, ugh, it's taking forever. Lol. Impatient, me. What do you mean "sacrifice himself at the end"? Like, die? O_O No problem! I love giving them out when I can. Haha. Being tortured by fic writers is part of the VPP's fine print. :D)**

 **Lysitta Lennon: Well, I am very glad it explains some stuff, but there is DEFINITELY more to come. :) Omg, it seriously bugged me that he couldn't recognize her during the movie. I mean, seriously. I asked for POTO 25th Anniversary for my birthday, but I doubt I'm going to get it. My parents just don't get me. *Sigh* I've been meaning to check out Jekyll and Hyde. My friend got the book from the library summer reading thing, so I'll have to steal it from her sometime. :)**

 **Thanks for the reviews, guys! And, oh, for all the guests that list themselves as 'guest' I would REALLY appreciate it if you put a nickname or something so that I can differentiate between people. Something like Bob, or meter stick, for all I care. :)**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	15. Andrew

James's parents consented immediately. "Like a daughter to us," they had said I was. It had seemed kind of odd considering they've only known me for a couple of weeks, but I didn't question it much. The Baudins seem a bit hard to understand, and I'm not going to start trying now.

I didn't have much at Aramina's apartment, so it only takes one trip in a carriage to get all my things to James's manor. My cheeks are red as we ride. Embarrassment is a crude understatement to what I'm feeling right now. Mortification, more like. I will never live this down.

After expressing my feelings to James, he just laughs and says, "It's not like you need to care about how my father views you. His opinion isn't going to matter soon enough."

I raise an eyebrow. "How soon are we talking?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Whenever we can get suitable leverage over him, I suppose."

Sighing, I grab his hand and lean into him. "James, do you think we're prolonging this too much? I mean, Paris is getting worse with every day that passes."

"I know you want to act now, but this requires patience, and we can't strike until the timing is absolutely perfect."

I don't reply until I can figure out how to phrase my question. "What are you… What are you planning to do with your father?"

"My fath—?" He cuts himself off as he realizes what I mean. "Oh, um, I… I don't know. He is my father. I can't kill him, but Paris can't go on like this. Maybe I can lock him up somewhere, or…" he trails off, letting out a deep sigh. He squeezes my hand. "I don't want to have to do this, Corinne. I really don't, but there are some things I have to sacrifice to make Paris and France a better place."

I smile faintly. "You would be a good king, you know."

James gently kisses the top of my head. "I'm not exactly sure you know what you're talking about."

I don't reply. I just let the silence overtake me.

* * *

The mortification never wears off. It just gets more intense as we arrive at the Baudin Manor. Lady Eleanor embraces me, to my surprise, as do Caroline and Catherine. Emily stays to the side, her arms crossed across her chest, with a sour look on her face. I wink at her, but she just walks back inside, not bothering to spare me a glance.

"What's wrong with your sister?" I whisper to James as we walk inside.

He holds the door for me. "I have no idea. She's been like that for a few days."

I shake my head and continue following James. The manor is bigger than I remember, though, it always is. It seems like it takes forever for James to lead me to my room with my bags. "Do you need any help unpacking?" he asks.

I blush, looking down at my feet. "N-no, I'm alright."

He presses his lips to my cheek, and then says, "Don't hesitate to ask if you need something. You can ask anyone—they won't care. Dinner's at 6:30. Breakfast at 7:00. I go in early tomorrow, so I won't see you until later. Oh, and try to stay away from Oscar as much as possible. And also—"

"James!" I say, cutting him off. "I'll be alright. You don't have to worry about me."

He kisses my forehead. "Oh, but I do." Before I can reply, he jogging down the hall.

Shaking my head, I laugh and open the door to my room. I nearly drop my bags. It's red—that's all I can completely comprehend. As I get my bearings, I finally can think straight. It's red—the canopy, the duvet, the rugs—and white—the vanity, the armoire, the bed-frame. Swirls of both colors cover the walls in delicate motions, making me afraid of ruining them.

I sigh and sit my bags on the bed. I start taking out the clothes but jump when I hear a voice. "No! I can do those!"

I look around for the owner of the voice, and out of the corner of my eye I see a figure move. I turn all the way to them and come face-to-face with a girl a bit older than Emily's age with brilliant orange hair braided into a bun on her head. "A-am I in the wrong room?" I ask, stuttering from embarrassment.

She quickly shakes her head, the loose pieces of her hair falling down in curly tendrils. "No, madame." She curtsies. "I'm Charlotte, your maid."

I blink. A _maid_? I am going to kill that boy. I put on my best smile—which obviously isn't very convincing. "Oh… that's alright. I don't need a maid."

Charlotte's face falls. "I… oh, but… I was given orders by Monsieur Baudin's son."

"James," I sigh.

She nods. "He said to tell you you're not allowed to send me away."

I nearly snarl. "Oh, he did, did he?"

Charlotte takes a step back, as if I'm scaring her. "I-i'm s-sorry, ma'am."

I let out a deep breath and try to compose myself. I do it enough, so I'm to the point that I'm not frightening—probably. "That's perfectly alright. I'm Marie." She curtsies again. I scowl. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asks.

"Curtsy. I'm not superior to you, so you shouldn't have to curtsy to me."

She bites her lip. "Well… I kind of am inferior to you, ma'am."

I smile. "Well, then consider it a command. And don't call me 'ma'am' or 'madame' either."

Charlotte smiles, as if she already thinks that I'll be an okay mistress.

I stay in my room, never once leaving for anything. I send Charlotte away after a couple hours, and she goes to do whatever her maidly duties are in this place. She seems like such a sweet girl. I can only hope they treat their maids kindly here. If not, well, I'll have to have a word with James.

The bed is unnaturally comfortable. The sheets are white and made of silk, and the duvet is the same material. I haven't slept on something so comfortable since I was banished, since… God, I just need to stop thinking about it. It doesn't matter anymore, _he_ doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't matter.

I sigh, brushing my fingertips across the bed, relishing the softness. Although living at the Baudin residence is beyond mortifying as I've said, I don't have a choice, so I might as well take advantage of as much as I can. But, there is some things that I will miss about staying in more lived-in places that aren't spotless every moment of the day.

Shaking my head, I lie down on the bed and let out a breath. Indeed. I could get used to this.

* * *

I arrive at dinner exactly on time. I keep my eyes averted as I walk down the stairs. I can't help the blush that creeps up to my cheeks. When I near him and his family, James takes my hand and presses his lips to my cheek. "You are exceedingly beautiful tonight," he whispers into my ear.

I let out a light laugh. I'm not in my best dress, and the coloring doesn't even look flattering on me, but I smile and take his compliment anyway. He leads us all to the dining room, and we sit and await the first course. Once it is set in front of us, the room suddenly erupts in banter. James and I are the only ones who are silent.

Occasionally I remember to take bites of food, and I chew slowly. Before I know it another plate is set before me; I don't even register what it is. After a few minutes more of silence, I feel a shoe stamp my foot, and I choke for a second. I look at James with a sour look on my face, but all he does is whisper, "My father just asked you how you're settling in."

I swallow the rest of my food, which takes only a second but feels like an agonizing few minutes. "I'm sorry, Captain. I was distracted. I'm settling in very nicely, thank you. Charlotte is a dear."

The Captain smiles, and I want so badly to believe it's genuine. "I'm glad to hear it. Let us know if you need anything."

I nod. "Thank you, sir."

And then I'm silent once again. Everyone goes on with their chatter, but I hear nothing of it. My thoughts completely engulf me. Everything races through my mind—Philippe, Renée, my new job, _him_ , how everything is so wrong. How has this happened? It's a question I've asked myself so many times before.

All this—everything—is so messed up. I don't care what's happened. The council cannot be made up of criminals, Madame de Bossé cannot be my new boss, and everything else… it couldn't be happening. Louis—my heart aches, but I force myself to think it—may have lied to me, but I cannot allow myself to believe that he was lying so much for so long about everything. I can't. No matter how hard I want to, I can't.

A huge _bang_ interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see Oscar almost stumbling to the table with a glass in his hand. "Uncle," he says, his words slurring, "how are you today?"

Captain Baudin groans. "Oscar," he hisses, "not again."

Oscar smiles. "What?" He takes a drink from his glass and laughs. "Oh, you mean this thing? Nah, this is ale. It was wine last time, remember?"

Baudin looks almost like he's seething. "Get. Out. Now."

Oscar smirks and stumbles over to me. I glance over at James and see his muscles tense. I know he's doing everything in his power not to jump on his cousin right here. Oscar kneels next to me, his ale sloshing onto his hand. "Hey, Marie, how you doing today? Heard you're moving in. Is Jamie tying the knot already?" He snorts. "He was always one to jump the gun."

James growls, "You have five seconds before I drag you out of here and beat you senseless. One—"

Oscar turns back to me. "Anyway, Marie—"

"Two—"

"—how would you like me to—"

"Three—"

"—take you out tonight and show you how my cousin should treat a lady." And if saying those words aren't enough, Oscar grabs my head and kisses me. I knee him in the groin and finish it all off with a slap in the face.

Even doing so, it takes all but a second for James to flip his chair and start beating Oscar. Captain Baudin jumps up and tries to drag James off Oscar, but James is too large for him to handle.

"I thought you said I had until five," Oscar chokes out, blocking punches from his cousin.

James leaves a punch on Oscar's nose, and blood starts streaming down his nose and mouth. In Oscar's defense, he is able to strike James despite his inebriated state, which leaves a thin line of blood trailing down my beau eyebrow.

" _ENOUGH!_ " Baudin shouts.

James stops and looks over at his father. "Father, he—"

"I. Don't. Care. Both of you out now! I don't want to see either of you until tomorrow!"

James looks down at his cousin whom he has pinned on the ground. "If you ever touch her again, it will be the end of you." James stands and stalks out of the room, Oscar doing the same.

"I…" I begin.

Captain Baudin sighs and slouches in his chair. "Don't say anything, Marie. It's not your fault. Oscar is an idiot, and James is short-tempered when it comes to him."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. Possibly some sort of cousin rivalry. Who knows?"

I nod, not having the urge or the will to press on any longer. "I'm going to retire. Have a nice night, everyone." I curtsy to the entire Baudin family who I completely forgot about. Lady Eleanor gives me a nod before I walk to my room.

* * *

The room is dark, too dark for my taste. The windows make me uneasy, as if someone could be watching me at this very moment. With a huff, I turn over on my side and try to make the duvet feel like less of a dead weight. This has been going on for hours—tossing and turning. The mattress is too soft, the sheets too clean. It doesn't feel like a home. It feels like a prison.

But it's not a prison, I realize. If I'm living here, then that means I can roam around out of my own free will. Smiling a bit, I grab my robe, wrap it around me, then grab a candle. I head out the door, looking right and left for anyone even though I know I don't need to. Everything is completely silent, so I start walking.

There is still so much of this place I haven't seen yet. I know where the front entrance is, the dining room, the parlor we usually go to, but that's about it. The rest of this place is a total mystery to me.

I travel down hall after hall, most looking the same, until I reach a large door. I try the handle, and it's unlocked, so I slowly open the door and peer inside. It's completely dark, and there's no noise, but I go inside anyway. I find the candles lining the walls and set a match on each of them until they light up the room. I nearly gasp. It's an art gallery.

I walk along the walls, mesmerized by the paintings. Each is so lifelike, so beautiful. Art has always made me happy, and I have no idea why, but it just does. Each amazingly accurate brushstroke makes my chest ache with envy.

I stop when I come across a large painting. It's a portrait of a black-haired boy in a blue uniform. Letting out a breath, I realize it's a _Musketeer_ uniform he's wearing—and a very decorated one, at that. Medals and pins line his tunic along with the Musketeer's crest on his collar. I feel the urge to touch it, but I hold myself back.

The black hair. Shaking my head, I look down at the inscription on the frame.

 _Andrew Baudin, 1682_

Andrew Baudin. His name rings in the back of my mind, but I can't seem to place him. I had known that Captain Baudin was apart of the musketeers for quite some time, but I never gave much thought to it. I don't even remember him. But who is this Andrew Baudin? He looks fairly young, but most likely older than me than I was at that time. He reminds me of James, but he has a more serious look than James does, with his closely-cropped hair and dark expression.

"He was my brother," a voice says.

I nearly scream, but I withhold it. I look over and see James in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, black trousers, and a bottle in his hand. "He was always my father's favorite, but he never used it as an excuse to be held higher than the rest of us. He was righteous and fair, always cared for the well-being of others. It was from him that I heard about you."

I look at him curiously. The bottle is obviously alcohol based upon the stench, but I can tell James isn't drunk. In fact, he looks perfectly sober. Noticing my gaze, he laughs. "Thought I'd try getting drunk, but I couldn't get myself to do it."

I turn back to the portrait. "This is your brother?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, my older brother."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Then isn't he supposed to be the next captain?"

James looks down, something like sorrow filling his eyes. "Andrew… he… died many years ago."

"How long ago?" I ask, not meaning to press but genuinely curious.

"Just a little over eight years ago. In a raid."

A raid. The raid. The raid that almost cost me my life. It was February 9th, just under month before my banishment. The guards were run thin, and there was a breach in security. Enemies from another country—we're still not sure which—got into the palace and tried to assassinate _him_ , but we managed to drive them. Though we won that battle, there was much bloodshed, from myself included. I had been fighting when someone came from behind and stabbed me. They said it was a miracle I survived. After my banishment, I remember wishing that they had let me die. This must have been the attack that had killed Andrew.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

James takes my hand. "I'm fine now. Sometimes I think my father is still mourning, though. He never quite recovered from his death. I haven't told you this, but he disbanded the Musketeers of the Guard because he couldn't bear seeing the uniforms that his son's blood had been in."

"Couldn't he have just changed the uniforms?" I ask.

James lets out a laugh. "I suppose that wasn't enough. Everything reminded him of Andrew. He ended up staying out in the country for nearly a year before he came back. He took me up, after that. I was 19, so I'm the one who remembers Andrew the most. Caroline and Catherine were only 4, and Emily was 5. I'm really the only brother they remember, unless you count Oscar."

I look back at the painting. "How could someone forgive the person that killed their son?" I ask.

James closes his eyes. "If my father finds whoever killed Andrew, they will die a very long, painful death. I guarantee you that."

Without another word, James leads me back to my room. And though I'd think that it would be the opposite, I fall asleep more easily than I would have before. But terror-filled screams fill my dreams.

* * *

 **(A/N: So there is a LOT of plotty things in this chapter. Well, kinda. I guess if you think about it there is. *Shrug* What do I know. I'm only the author. :D Anyway, how'd you guys like this chapter? I've just started chapter 19, so the end is near. I can't believe it. I'm gonna' be super sad when it's over, but that means I'll be able to publish something new! Okay, so last Sunday was my birthday! I won't tell you how old I am, but I will say that I feel no different from what I was the day before. Haha.**

 **Replies:**

 **Decembra1998: Ugh, yes de Bossé is evil! Those two songs are super catchy! Bahaha. Yes, it was definitely brave of her. Trish is the oldest, so she has to be the one to stand up for her sisters. 3 I just love James a little bit more every chapter. Corinne's brown hair has to be doing the job well. :) Ugh, yes, The castle is just… bleh. So a thing that I have a bit of a problem with is keeping track of pets because they're not on my conscious mind a lot. I hear a lot of authors have this problem, too. Miette is here somewhere, but I just haven't mentioned her. That's a lot of cats! I'm not a cat person, really, but I have had a lot of dogs! I have two right now. :) Haha. Rants are completely fine.**

 **Turquisea: *Shakes head* Corinne, Corinne, Corinne. I agree. Stupid, stupid, stupid.**

 **paris4eva: Yep, pretty much. Well, you're not the only one! :)**

 **PrincessGeekelle: SHE IS EVIL. BAD DE BOSSÉ. I am aiming for 22 chapters, but it's now seeming more like 23. Honestly, I've been trying to figure that out for a while. I'm a really good typer (at least, I'd like to think so), and I was able to get several chapters ahead pretty early in the story, so that helps, too. :)**

 **maryam969: Yes, I guess he kind of is. Gosh, I want to say more, but I can't. :(**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Yes, she's just gotten worse and worse over the years with that pent-up anger. I would be insanely mad if I ever saw someone do that. It's just… *sigh*. Omg lol you're so right. Oooooh. Louis fencing? Wish I had thought of that earlier so I could have incorporated it earlier in the story, but who knows? Maybe I'll surprise you. (I've got a couple of things to surprise you with.) ;) My parents just think it's weird, but they shouldn't really be surprised anymore considering how many weird things I like (*cough, cough* Philippe. Well, no, Philippe's not weird. Philippe's common sense. Haha). I looked up that video when you suggested it, and all I've got to say is: WTF :D) Lol, yeah. So glad you're enjoying everything even if it's not going your way. :D**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, guys!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	16. When I See Him Again

I wake with panic tugging at my heart. It takes me a moment to realize where I am. Another dream. God, another nightmare. My chest heaves. Damn it. I thought I was over these. Memories of last night flood my brain, and I keep telling myself that my nightmare wasn't real, that I'm okay. But I'm really not. Every time I dream about it, remember it even, I get scared. And now knowing more information about it makes things a lot more clear.

Memories of the attack fill my head again, and I remember every obscenely grotesque detail. Every slash, every strike, every drop of blood is implanted in my brain forever. Every life lost. I can still see their faces, all the people I hadn't been able to save. And it wasn't just musketeers, either. Hundreds of civilians had been injured or killed, too. I think that's the part the hurts me the most. There had been so many people the doctors could have saved while they were operating on me.

With shaky legs, I stand up out of bed and start making my way to my dressing room. It's before 6:00 in the morning, but I figure I'll get ready earlier, so Charlotte will stop shadowing me. The hall is dark, but not as dark as it was last night. I don't dare go down to the art gallery again. I can't bear to see his face, and I don't mean James. His face—Andrew's—haunts me. I can't even remember him from my days as a musketeer, but I can still imagine it—his screaming, his moaning, his blood, his face white with death.

It's all I think about for the next hour. Even when I get to the palace and am busy with work, his face shows up everywhere. I can't help but feel pity for Captain Baudin. I don't care what sins he's committed. That was his son, his flesh and blood, and losing him in such a tragic way would… could kill a person.

My silence earns no praise nor condemnation, though I wouldn't have expected any of the former, anyway. As I work, I realize what this place reminds me of—a cemetery, a morgue, really anything that has to do with death.

It doesn't take long for Trish and I to finish sweeping the stairwell, so we quickly move on to the ballroom. Painful memories tug at my heart, but I push them away. I need to stop showing weakness to such trivial things. I keep telling myself that, but it's not like it helps. Shaking my head, I keep sweeping and stay silent, just as I have been trained to do.

So many dances were spent on this floor. My first and many after that. He absolutely insisted on a party every single year, despite my warnings on how vulnerable we become when we're all drunk. Obviously I wasn't able to sway him. I snort. I wish he had been assassinated on one of those balls. Well, either that or fallen off a balcony while being inebriated. That would've been great, too.

Giggling quietly, I glance over at Trish who gives a warning look, but that only makes me laugh harder. "What is so funny?" she asks quietly.

I shake my head and direct my gaze to the floor. "It's nothing."

She doesn't reply.

I begin focusing on work again, but I can't keep imagining different ways he would fall off the balcony—backwards, frontwards, sideways, headfirst, etc. After a quick glance out a window, I realize I can't keep a sick smile off my face. And I don't really care. I think I have the right to daydream his death after what he's done to me. Well, maybe not, but it's not like anyone can get into my head. Right?

Again, I glance over at Trish. Her lips are set in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, like she's putting all her energy into shoveling a piece of dirt into the pile. I will never understand this girl. At least, not unless she talks to me. I still don't understand why we can't talk, honestly. I don't see the harm so long we're not bothering anyone. Damn de Bossé and her damn rules. I will never not loathe that woman.

The ballroom takes nearly two hours, and I'm already tired of these heels, though it's not even 10:00. How I would absolutely love to break the heels off these shoes, but, alas, I would be smacked around a bit. Though, again, maybe not considering the warning Philippe gave de Bossé after yesterday.

Trish and I move onto the kitchen and start scrubbing the pots and pans. I can't figure out the pattern of work we do now. Back when I had worked here, we had sweeping days, mopping days, kitchen days, and so on, but now there's just random cycles of different things all over the palace, which makes everything confusing and it doesn't seem to bother Trish, as if she's been used to this her whole life.

She can't be much younger than me, though she seems more mature. I wonder how they came to work her, but even more I wonder why they stay. They have their brother, so they can't be completely poor, but I still wonder. There are plenty of jobs in paris that they could take that don't give them this level of abuse.

Task after task runs by quickly yet so slowly. More sweeping, mopping, dusting, more dishes, weeding, and more. By lunch I'm nearly collapsing over the table. The other girls look at me curiously before filling their bowls with soup and start eating in silence. I try to conjure up some conversation, but they won't budge, so I just keep to myself.

Without the business of work, Andrew's face keeps intruding inside my thoughts. I still can't get him out of my head. It's like he's everywhere. Everywhere I look, everywhere I step, he's there. Not like a ghost or anything like that, but like a puppy begging to be acknowledged. Even when I've started back to work, his face follows me.

But the worst part of this is that I can't tell this to James. I can't tell him that his brother keeps intruding inside my mind. He'd think I was insane—well, more insane than he'd originally thought. I need to figure this out on my own , I need to figure out who he is, and where I've seen him.

Marlene seemingly asks Trish if she can work with me now, and Trish agrees and goes with the other girls. As one would expect, Marlene stays silent, but there's smile spread across her face that stands out more than anything. How could anyone here be happy, and after having been smacked the day before by de Bossé? It makes absolutely no sense.

Shaking my head, I go back to work. There's no point in trying to understand anyone here. It's not like I'll be along here for too long, so I need to stop trying. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I'm not really sure if it's true.

Eventually Marlene and I finish one of the parlors and another staircase. In another two hours, we're able to finish two more. Why did the build the palace so big again? Sighing, I keep scrubbing anything I can see. Only now do I remember how much I hate cleaning.

Every room is eery, all black and white. It creeps me out, honestly. I just can't wait until this day is over and I can go back to James's manor and sleep. No, I realize I don't want to go to sleep because then I would see Andrew again. I groan.

There are perks to being with Marlene. She can't hear me when I talk, so I could talk if I wanted to. Not like I'd get an answer, of course, but it's worth a try. "Hey, Marlene," I whisper. No answer, but I wonder for a moment why I'd expect one. I smirk and start humming, relieved to be getting all this off my chest, trivial as it sounds. Maybe working with Marlene isn't so bad.

The work goes by quicker than before, thank God. I feel like Aramina, but at least I keep Andrew's face from my mind. I have no idea why it's bothering so much, but it just does. It's like a problem to a riddle that keeps you up at night. I continue my humming.

About halfway through dusting the parlor, the door flies open, revealing a very disheveled Madame de Bossé. "They need a maid. Marie, go," she commands.

"Who?" I ask, and Marlene looks at me with terrified eyes, knowing that I said something.

"The council! They need a maid present for their meeting!"

I shake my head, voice getting caught in my throat. "But… why can't Trish do it?"

De Bossé snarls, and I can almost guarantee she wants to hit me. "She fell down the stairs and injured her foot, damn girl, and the others are too young, and this one"—she points at Marlene—"can't hear anything, obviously, so you are all I have! Go at once! Do not keep them waiting, and do whatever they ask. And no talking!"

She starts pulling me out, so I start dragging my feet. "PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS!" I shriek.

De Bossé pushes me to the ground, pointing a finger at me. "You do it, or you're FIRED!"

I almost say that I quit, but I stop short. I think for a moment. I have to conquer my fears. I have to do this. I cannot—I will not—be weak any longer. I stand and put my face as close to de Bossé's face as it is possible without touching her. "Don't you ever touch me again. I will do your damned task, but you have absolutely no right to hurt me or any of these girls. If it happens one more time, madame, you will be fired. I will make sure of that."

De Bossé says nothing and stomps off. I look at Marlene, and she just gives me a slight smile before nodding her head. With a shaky breath, I start walking. Trish had me memorize nearly every place in this palace again, so I know where the usual chamber for these meetings is.

Multiple things flash through my mind as I walk. Some are of Andrew, some of _him_ , some of James, some of Marlene and the other girls, some of Philippe and his minions. I try to will the thoughts away and focus on my task, and I manage to do so. Let's just hope they stay that way.

I suddenly realize how close I am to the room, and I sometimes find that I move slower than I could be moving. Again, I tell myself I'm not afraid. But then again, this is the first time I'll be in the same room with all the men I put in prison. The thought is nauseating, but I swallow and hope for the best—well, the best that there can be.

And then, I find that I'm outside their door, outside their domain, outside their lair, their prison. God, it terrifies me, I realize. This is terrifying. I take a step back and release a shaky breath. I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

Any rational person would run away right now. Any rational person wouldn't have gotten this job in the first place, really. But again, that little voice inside my head speaks out to me. And it whispers:

You can do this.

And then I suddenly believe I can. Let these criminals be damned. I am Corinne D'Artagnan, and nothing scares me. I am Corinne D'Artagnan, the enemy of all enemies. I am Corinne D'Artagnan, and I believe that I have the guts to do this. I am Corinne D'Artagnan, and I will not be afraid.

But the caution still dances in my head, even as I slowly enter the room, keeping my gaze to the floor at all times. The room is filled with chatter from men—those men, I realize. My hands clench into tight fists as I walk and curtsy to the room before stepping to the side. I would prefer to remain invisible, but Philippe's booming laugh catches my attention.

"Oh! You can't be serious! He said that?!" he shouts.

I roll my eyes. _Just a bunch of gossiping girls_ , I think. I let out a little giggle but quickly move back to my blank expression. Everything is fine for a few minutes… until I hear Philippe call my name. "Marie! Please, let me introduce you to some friends."

I bite the inside of my cheek until I draw blood, but I still walk over to him, anyway. "Councilman," I whisper when I'm next to him, curtsying.

Philippe sets a hand on my back, and I tense, trying to will away my urge to smack him away. It only partly works. I pull away slightly, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Bertram! This is Marie, James's fiancée."

I nearly choke. "I am not his fiancée."

Philippe smirks. "In due time, my dear."

I almost want to growl at him when he calls me that, but then I realize who he just introduced me to. "Bertram Faulkner?" I meet the man's eyes and feel my face grow white.

He smiles and bows. "Indeed I am."

"N-nice to m-meet you," I choke out.

He nudges me. "Little star-struck, eh? It's not every day you get to meet a councilman."

Thank God.

I curtsy again. "Yes, um… if there's anything you need, let me know."

Philippe raises an eyebrow. "Why are you working in the first place? Surely the Baudins have enough."

"I.. I like to keep busy," I say.

"That's… interesting," he says, though I highly doubt that he thinks it's anything but strange.

I let out a nervous laugh. "Well, I have to get back to my station, if you don't mind, sir. Madame de Bossé will skin me if she finds out I'm not being silent."

Philippe smirks. "I highly doubt Madame de Bossé will lay a finger on you."

My face turns solemn. "Maybe not, but she will punish one of those other girls for something they had no part in just to spite me."

That shuts him up in a second, so I start to make my way across the room, but I'm only able to take one step before the doors fly open. Everything becomes silent as the person enters the room.

And then I'm suddenly frozen.

Everything becomes a blur. His movements, the noises that surround me. I nearly stop breathing. No. It can't be. No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Please, no.

This can't happen. He can't be here. He can't. He just can't.

Louis can't be here.

But then I realize how stupid I was for not realizing it in the first place. It's a council meeting. The council meets with the king.

It takes me a moment to realize he's moving closer. I step back and nearly fall into Philippe. Closer and closer he gets until there's only a meter or two of space in between us. I want to move so badly, but it's like my feet are glued to the ground. I'm all too aware as he comes closer, so close that I could touch him if I wanted to. I don't meet his eyes, only reaching up to his lips.

"Are we ready Councilman Rousseau?" he asks, his voice so deep and… and dead. I let a shaky breath out, willing myself not to cry.

I think Philippe confirms this, but my back is turned, so I can't see completely. "Have you met James's fiancée Marie?" Philippe asks, and I nearly burst into tears. This cannot be happening. Damn Philippe. Damn Philippe and damn him a million times over.

I feel Louis's eyes on me. "No, I have not. I didn't know he was engaged."

Philippe laughs. "Oh, he's not, but it will happen soon. I know it. We've already placed our bets."

"Hm," he muses and moves to a throne I hadn't noticed until now. Suddenly feeling more than relieved, I move back to my post. No one calls for a drink, or food, or a pen, or anything. I'm just left staring at every contour of his black suit, wondering when he started wearing that color, and wishing that this meeting would end soon.

The minutes tread on for what feels like hours. I nearly run out the second he says the meeting is adjourned, but I force myself to be civilized and exit last as a maid should. I nearly cry when Louis gives me a nod as he walks by.

As soon as everyone's gone, I fall to my knees and start sobbing. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I choke out over and over again. I can't deal with this anymore. I just want this to all be over. Thank God he didn't recognize me. I'd be dead within the day, and perhaps James, too, unless he pleaded that he had no idea of who I was, though I'm not sure who would buy that.

My sobs don't waver for ten minutes at least. I just pray that no one can hear me. Obviously what I want is not in my favor right now, I realize when a door opens.

"Go away," I choke out.

"Are you alright?" I don't even need to look to know who it is. More tears start streaming down my face.

"Please, just leave me alone."

I see Louis waver in the doorway for a moment before nodding and shutting the door softly behind him. I stare at where he stood for a moment before burying my face into my hands and letting the sobs overtake me.

* * *

 **(A/N: Well, here is your first speaking appearance of Louis! I just finished one of the last full length chapters, and, omg, I cried. It was just… agh! I'm so proud of myself! I wrote three chapters in one week, and chap 21 is over 4500 words long! I've decided to have 24 chapters in all, but there will only be 22 full-length ones. The other two will be short little drabbles and whatnot. Wow, pretty soon I'm gonna have nothing to do…**

 **Oh, and speaking of nothing to do, I have decided to go on hiatus for the month of November because I'm doing NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, and I need to focus solely on that. Don't worry, though, because I'll still update this story if I'm not finished. I just won't be posting anything else. :)**

 **Replies:**

 **Violetta: It doesn't matter whether you the last, the first, or the fifth. Reviews are just amazing no matter when they're given! You got your wish! Louis has appeared!**

 **paris4eva: Happy early birthday! *Fist bump* October birthdays are awesome IMO. Probably because of his son, I bet. It's a real tear-jerker.**

 **Decembra1998: Haha. That's my dream, too. That and having my little sister marry Prince George or my nephew marry Princess Charlotte. (I would say me, but I'd say I'm a bit too old, considering George is still a baby. That'd be super awkward.) :P Wishful thinking gets you long ways. Lol. Just so you know, getting hit in the solar plexus is painful. Very painful. Trust me, I know. (Long story short, in martial arts we were supposed to do body-shots just above the belly button without pads, but a couple of the guys slipped and hit me in the solar plexus. It was _not_ fun.) I'm really glad you're liking it! It should be getting more epic soon, especially in the next chapter and beyond!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Firstly, join the club. ;P Secondly, me too! Thirdly, here ya go! I would love to update before Tuesday sometimes, but it just can't happen. :(**

 **Esmee-lynn: Aw, it's alright! My story isn't and shouldn't be a top priority in anyone's life, including mine. It's moderately high, but there's more important things. I hope everything is going well for you! Heh, #plotturns. No, Madame de Bossé has changed… for the worse. She is so infuriating! Hee. That scene with Oscar was super fun to write, bad as it may be. Andrew is definitely one of the reasons. I'm just having too much fun with Philippe. He's so nasty, and, omg, I love it. Preminger always creeped me out to mega proportions (Mostly it was strange to me when I was younger that he wore "high heels and ponytails," so naturally Philippe was more approachable. German and English are both Germanic like Spanish and French are both romantic, so words and style will be similar. :D) Who said I was killing James? Lol. Oscar isn't endgame. He isn't even a part of the love triangle, so nothing to worry about there.**

 **Turquisea: Hee hee. Your reviews are so entertaining.**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Well, that's good because there are a lot in store for you... Uh, yes, dark Louis is like... Ugh, I can't even describe it. The epitome of awesomeness maybe? Haha. I don't have a trash soon yet, (Or is our Has? Hmmm.) but when I do get one and tell my parents, they'll probably just pass it off as another one of my freakishly weid things. :P That's a virtually good WTF. Haha.**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews, guys!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	17. Say My Name

Madame de Bossé never comes to force me out of that room. I don't know how long I stay in there, but before I know it the light filling the room turns to darkness. The door opens again, but this time I don't have the will to say anything. Hands wrap around my body, pulling me to their chest. I let a small sob.

"What happened?" James asks. "I've been looking for you."

I shake my head and grip his tunic. "He was here, and I… I couldn't leave."

"You could have left, Corinne. I would've handled de Bossé for you."

I pull away and stare into his eyes. I had forgotten how strange the color was. "No, it wasn't that I was afraid of leaving. It was that I couldn't make myself leave."

"You… you didn't want to? Is that what you mean?" he asks, almost what I think is hurt lining his face.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks. "James, I… We were together for nearly four years. I thought I loved him. And after what he did to me, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forget him."

He presses his lips to my head. "I know. I'm sorry for not being more sensitive to that. I'm not sure how I would survive if I were in your position."

I let out a shaky breath. "Can we go home?" I ask.

James smiles. "Of course." Without another word, James picks me up and walks out of the room. Usually I would be embarrassed if someone saw me being held by him, but I honestly don't care right now. We ride back in the carriage, and again I'm amazed by how quickly it goes by. The hallways are empty, which is odd considering the hour.

"My parents went to a friend's place today, so my sisters are taking dinner in their room tonight, thank God," James explains.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is something wrong with your parents leaving?"

"They all go haywire," he says, a smirk on his face. "Father made me promise to keep them sane for the night."

"And sane means…?"

"Early bedtime, no dessert, and no sleepovers." He ticks each one off on his fingers.

I giggle. "So, what are you going to do after early bedtime?"

He smirks. "I don't know. What are you doing?"

I shrug. "I don't know, either."

"Well, maybe I should stop by after early bedtime," he says, taking a step towards me.

I giggle, pushing him away. "Indeed, but you have to change first. You smell like a sweaty garden."

James laughs and starts walking away. "A sweaty garden. I'll keep that one in mind."

Shaking my head, I continue to my room. Charlotte is sweeping the floor when I open the door and curtsies when I enter. "Would you like dinner, madame?"

I give her a stern look. "What did I say about the curtsying and the titles?"

She blushes. "I'm sorry. Would you like dinner… Marie?"

I smile, nodding my head. "Yes, thank you."

Charlotte walks out the door to get my dinner, and I just flop onto the bed. Memories of earlier tug at the back of my head, but I force them away. That's not what's important right now. Sighing, I change into a white blouse and black trousers and patiently await Charlotte and James.

A knock on the door sounds a few minutes later, and I open the door to Charlotte. She sets down a tray of food on the table, asks me if there's anything else I would like, and, after I decline, leaves. I eat slowly, sometimes subconsciously pushing around the food with my fork, until I feel full, and then I just lie down and wait.

Several minutes—or hours, I suppose—later, another person knocks, and I nearly scramble to open it. James stands there leaning against the doorframe with a covered tray in his hands. He smirks and pushes past me, setting the tray down on the table and uncovering it.

"I thought you might like dessert," he says, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

I giggle and look at the many, many items he's brought. Pudding, cake, custard, pastries. "You're going to give me a sugar high."

He shrugs and sets down on my bed. "Better you than my sisters."

I set down next him and lean into his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to see me that way today," I whisper.

James wraps his arms around me and lays down, taking me with him. "Don't apologize, Corinne," he says. "I don't blame you for anything. It's okay."

I close my eyes and breathe in his neck. "Do you just naturally smell like outside?" I ask.

He laughs lightly. "I don't know. I'm mostly outside, you know. My father has to drag me to meetings."

"Then why are you so pale?"

He lets out another laugh. "So many good questions. How about I ask you one now?"

I narrow my eyes. "It depends."

James grabs a cookie off the table and shoves it at me playfully. I giggle, taking a bite. "Why are you reading Romeo and Juliet?"

I blink in surprise. "How did you know—?"

He grabs the book off the floor and smirks. I sigh. Aramina, apparently, had "accidentally" left the book in one of my bags, so I decided to take up reading it again. "Um… I'm not really anymore. It's too hard to understand."

James laughs. "Really?"

I roll my eyes. "If you're going to critique me, then why don't you leave?"

He squeezes my shoulders. "I'm sorry. I wasn't critiquing. Uh… why don't I help you?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Help me? How could you possibly help me?"

James pulls me up to sit and stares at me with a mysterious light in his eyes.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!

It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.

Oh, that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

Her eye discourses. I will answer it.—

I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks.

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand

That I might touch that cheek!"

I nearly gasp. He's not even using the book. "How do you know this?"

He shakes his head and simply says, "Be my Juliet."

I blush and look down at the part where he left off.

"Ay me!" I say.

"She speaks.

O, speak again, bright angel!"

I stare at him for a moment. Though these words were written by someone else hundreds and hundreds of years ago, I feel like he's wrote them to me, for me. There's such a level of intensity in his eyes that I can't even describe.

"She speaks.

O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

As is a wingèd messenger of heaven

Unto the white, upturnèd, wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds

And sails upo—"

The door opens. James's face turns from peaceful to enraged in a split-second, so I turn and see Oscar standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face. "The maid said you'd be in here, Jamie," he says.

James shoots up from my bed and walks over to Oscar, so agonizingly calm. "Get. Out. Now."

Oscar smirks. "Why? Did I interrupt something?"

"Get out, Oscar!" He just laughs. James growls and pushes him out into the hallway. He turns back to me. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod as he closes the door, cursing Oscar a bit before I fall asleep.

The next morning passes by in a subconscious blur. Madame de Bossé says nothing to me when I start work, and I start to wonder whether James has spoken to her. It's either that, or I got through to her yesterday. I work with Rachel today. She's seems almost quieter than Marlene or Trish, but I'm not sure that's possible.

The way these girls are treated makes me really sad and really angry. I don't see what they could have done to deserve this kind of treatment, honestly. I've sworn to myself that someday, somehow I will get de Bossé out of here and hire a new head maid that's kind to them.

Sighing, I continue sweeping a bedroom while Rachel dusts. It's a different room, but I feel like we keep cleaning the same one over and over again. None of this place looks dirty. None of this place looks lived in.

Again, I wonder what happened to him. It doesn't hurt as much, but an ache still throbs in my chest. I keep telling myself that he couldn't have lied about everything. He had to have felt something for me. Though, I'm not exactly sure I want to know. Maybe it's better if I just forget that he ever existed. That would be better. But… that's never going to happen. I was with him too long to forget. I felt his lips too many times to forget. I heard his promises too many times to forget.

But I keep telling myself that I will never let this happen to me again. I will not let myself be betrayed, and hurt, and broken again. Though I love James, I truly do, I feel as if my guard will always be up, and if he loves me back, he should know that.

Rachel drags me to room after room. I eventually forget how many there's been because they all look exactly the same. I just wallow deeply in my thoughts, not bothering to remember if I already sweeped in this spot. My thoughts overtake my mind once again, but this time it's that face I had completely forgotten about until now.

Andrew.

I wish he would just go away, but there's also this part of me that wants to identify him, wants to know how he came to the end of his days. I have to know, I realize. I have to know for James. And I know just how to find out.

I come back at midnight—of course. Eli and David don't question me as I come through, probably used to de Bossé griping for the maids to come back. The halls are almost completely empty as I tiptoe my way through them. Letting out a sigh of relief, I start to remember my surroundings. If they haven't rearranged anything, I can probably find the file room within minutes from now. I take off my shoes and start running, desperate to get in and out as quickly as possible.

I'm surprised to find no one guarding the safe. I'm fairly certain they think no one would ever be able to find it. It's situated inside the passageways, and only a few know their way in and out, myself included. The only way to get in is to put a combination of jewels into the wall. I pray that the combination is still the same.

Holding my breath, I insert the jewels in the order I remember. Blue, red, red, green, blue, red. It unlocks. I release the breath I was holding and push the door with all my might. It usually takes a couple men to open it all the way, but I'm skinny enough that I can slip through a fairly small opening.

The walls are lined with treasures, and jewels, and family heirlooms. This. This is the one place in the palace that has not changed. I trace my fingers along the glass cases, relishing the smooth feeling against my skin. Slowly—slower than I need to be going—I move toward the record case. It contains every significant event that's happened in this palace, and that includes the attack that took Andrew's life.

I open the drawer to the case and start rummaging through the files. It goes by date, and once I choose it, I find the attack documents. The deaths go by last name, I realize as shift through the papers. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I find it. It's just a simple column with a name, age, place of death, and cause of death, but it screams at me that there's a bigger picture to this.

Baudin, Andrew / 25 / palace courtyard / stabbed in the stomach by a dagger.

I let out a breath. This is him. He was stabbed in the courtyard that I walk through every day. He was stabbed in the courtyard that I had been dying in. We were so close, I realize. I wonder if I was able to see him as I laid there, my blood spilling onto the ground. It had been so quick, though. One second I was conscious and crying out in pain, another it was black, and then another and I was in the infirmary. I couldn't have seen him, though I almost wish I had.

Something that feels like a hand ceases my shoulder. I shriek as someone jerks me away from the file case and pins me to the wall. I don't dare look them in the eye as I know that these will be my final moments.

"What are you doing here?" a harsh voice whispers. Even with all the venom, all the vile in his voice, I still recognize him.

I decide it's best to play innocent, so I say, "I… I'm sorry. I needed something. Please… don't hurt me."

His fingers dig into my skin roughly, and I'm certain there will be bruises there later. "How did you get in here?" I don't answer immediately, and Louis grabs my jaw, making me look him in the eye. "Tell me who you are."

I let out a small sob as I stare into his eyes. "M-marie," I choke out. "Please stop. You're hurting me."

His face softens a small bit, and he loosens his grip on my jaw. I suddenly become aware of how close we are, how he's touching my skin. "You're Baudin's son's fiancée, correct?"

I give a slight nod.

He narrows his eyes. "How did you get in here?" he hisses.

"I found the passageways, and… I was exploring, and I, uh, found this place, so I tried to figure out the combination," I lie.

Louis snarls. "You're lying," he says digging his fingernails into my jaw.

I let out a whimper. "N-no. Please. I swear."

He loosens his grip, as if debating whether to let me go. After a moment, he says, "Leave. Leave, and don't ever come back here." He lets me go and clears my path.

I run out without another word.

The sobs don't come as quickly as I anticipated they would. In fact, to my surprise, they don't come at all. I'm just left shocked and shaking with near-terror. The halls are still empty, and I thank God for that. Somehow I lose my way and end up going in a complete circle. Groaning in frustration, I go the opposite way. When I hit a dead-end, I fall to my knees. I don't sob. I don't even want to sob, actually. I just feel an intense tiredness of all of this hurt and pain. I just want it to stop.

"Hey!" someone hisses.

I look around, but no one's there.

"Over here!" I look toward the direction of the voice and see a door cracked slightly open. I walk over and peer inside until a hand pulls me in. I gasp.

"Renée!"

"Shush! Nobody can hear us," she says.

I nod quickly. "Alright."

Apparently wanting to get straight to the point, she says, "Have you told anyone?"

"You said not to, so I didn't."

She smiles. "Good girl. Now, I have a couple things I need you to do." I raise an eyebrow but nod for her to go on. "Since you now reside in the Baudin residence—"

"How did you—"

"No interrupting," she hisses. "Anyway, since you now reside in the Baudin residence, I need you to get some things for me." Renée hands me a sheet of paper. I realize as I read that it's a list of documents inside the Baudin Manor. I blink in surprise and shove the paper back at her.

"I am not being your spy, Renée. I cannot violate James's trust like that."

She snarls. "This is more important than your beau's trust! These documents could help save Paris and all of France from becoming more like Hell than it already is."

I cross my arms and turn away from her. "James and I are already working on that, okay?"

I see her narrow her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We're trying to find a way to remove his father from his position as captain," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "You and your beau are not capable of making that happen."

I snarl and face her. How dare she? She has been out of my life for eight years, and she tells me I'm not capable of doing that? "Stop telling me what I am and am not capable of, Renée. It doesn't matter what you think." I try to walk out of the room, but she grabs me by the wrist.

"I'm not saying that you're not capable of it, Corinne. I'm saying that you can't do it by yourself. Baudin is powerful, more powerful than you might think. If he finds out who you are, you'd be dead within the hour. You and James both."

I shake my head. "I don't care what you say. I'm not being your spy."

Renée grabs my shoulder. "What happened to you? You are capable of doing amazing things to make a difference in this world. You can't give that up for a boy. You never did it before, and you can't do it now. Remember who you are. You are a musketeer. You are a rebel. You are Corinne D'Artagnan. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Tears start to envelop in my eyes. I'm about to reply, but I hear a choke come from behind us. He stands there, tears in his eyes, looking at me with pain on his face. It's only one thing he whispers, but, all the same, it says so much.

"Corinne."

* * *

 **(A/N: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG! O. M. GGGGGGGG! IT HAPPENED! LOUIS RECOGNIZED HER! Yassssssss finally! I'm so happy you got to read this! And the next chapters… I can't wait for that, either! I'm almost halfway done with the last chapter. I've been stalking it for a long time because I just don't want it to end, but, you know. I kind of have to. Tell me snot what you thought about this chapter!**

 **Replies:**

 **Guest: *Whispers* FOREVER.**

 **Lasting Violet: Bleh. I hate when the wifi isn't working. You and a lot of people think so, too. He hasn't seen her for eight years, but I sort of do agree.**

 **paris4eva: Haha. Da feels can kill you. Ugh, that must suck.**

 **Decembra1998: Yeah, it really can get to you. And, lol, that was just me having some fun. Ugh, yes! You have no idea how much I hate Madame de Bossé. She's just… agh! I think she's a bit of both. It's like, she wants to hate him, but there's so many memories that she can't forget. Haha. The betting between the councilman is hilarious. I'll need to write a oneshot on it sometime.**

 **Turquisea: Haha! Thank you! Omg, for a second I thought you were calling me a psycho. Lol. Yep. You've got it about right. Bahahahaha. Not sure James likes the broom cupboard.**

 **Guest: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yes.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Of makes me so sad every time I read this. Poor Louis… haha. Decide the right ship? I'm still not exactly sure I chose the right ship for endgame… I guess we'll see what all you think.**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Yep, you pretty much summed it all up. Oh yeah. Finding out that his old love is getting married after not seeing her for eight years would really suck. You'll be hearing Louis's side pretty soon. I promise!**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, guys!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	18. Complete Submission

_Corinne._

I wonder if I had imagined it. I had to have have. This couldn't be real. He couldn't be standing in front of me. Even more, he couldn't be standing in front of me like this—his face fallen, tears in his eyes, as if he actually cares about me.

"Corinne," he whispers again, a slight quivering to his voice.

I take one step back, about to flee, but before I can take another breath, he's running towards me. I throw my hands up in defense, but he holds them against me and smashes his lips against mine. I gasp.

 _What's happening?_ my mind screams.

After a second, I raise my hand and slap him in the side of his face. He backs away in surprise as I stare at him in disbelief.

"How are you alive?" he asks, clutching his face.

I don't answer. I just continue to watch him. He turns to Renée. "You didn't tell me she was alive?" he growls.

She shakes her head. "Why should I have?"

He grabs her shoulder. "Because I loved her!"

The words hit me like a punch in the gut. _I loved her._

Renée shoves his hand off her. "I didn't tell you because you didn't deserve to know, not after what you did to her."

I watch as he moves his gaze to the floor. "You know I didn't have a choice, Renée," he whispers. "You have to stop blaming me for this."

"But it is your fault. She thinks so, too." She nods toward me.

Louis turns back to me. I want to move. I want to move so badly, but my feet stay planted where they are. "Please, let me explain." He grabs my hand, but I jerk it away from him. "I didn't have a choice, Corinne."

"Don't say my name," I say, the first words I've spoken to him in eight years.

"Corinne—"

"I said, 'don't say my name', damn you!"

He retreats a step but doesn't move anymore. "I wasn't able to say no. I had to do it."

"You're the king! You're the king of this damned country! You had to have been able to do something!"

He shakes his head, biting his lip. "No, you don't understand. I _couldn't_. I swear, I couldn't."

"You told me to come back. You told me to come back, and you rejected"—my voice cracks as I say this word—"me. You told me to leave after everything we've been through, after everything _I've_ been through."

He takes a step closer to me. "No, I swear I didn't know you were here. I didn't know you were alive."

"How…" I look at Renée. "You didn't tell him?"

She moves her gaze to the floor. "It wasn't safe for you. If I hadn't switched the documents, you would be really dead. And if I had told him and you'd come back, you would have been killed."

"Do you see now?" he asks. "That wasn't me." He tries to take one of my hands, but I yank it away.

"Whether or not you intended for this to happen, you still banished me. You still ruined my life. You still ruined _Paris_. This is your fault, and I will never forgive you."

I see his lip start to quiver, and he lets out a sharp breath. Louis slowly gets down on one knee, then the other, and then braces both his hands on the floor. He's bowing to me, I realize. And then he moves down farther until I think I can see his lips touch the floor, his hands clasped together.

This is considered complete submission. He's telling me he's at my mercy. He's begging for forgiveness. For a king to do this, this would be considered the lowest point he could hit.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry for what I've done to you. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you for what?"

"Everything."

"What, you mean how you had me beaten? Oh, what about how you threw me out of my home? Or how about how you didn't believe me? How about how you thought I would kill you? How about how you ruined my life?"

He lets out a shaky breath. "Yes."

I take a step back and grab his jaw with my hands. I say only one thing before I shove him onto the ground.

"No."

* * *

I leave without another word. My head spins as I run from the palace. I can barely think. I can barely breathe. I can barely fathom what just happened. He… he said that he loved me, that he wasn't the one who did this. A part of me—a very small part—wants me to forgive him, wants me to forget about everything that's happened—the Black Cobras, the councilmen, Paris, _James_ —and go back to him like none of it was real. But, like it or not, it wasn't make-believe. No, like it or not, I can never forget what's happened to me. Like it or not, James is a part of my life. And, like it or not, I vowed to never forgive him.

Charlotte's waiting in my room when I burst in, tears falling down my cheeks. She immediately rushes over to me, and I collapse in her arms. I never have needed a person's comfort more in my life than right now. "M-marie, what's wrong?" she asks, stuttering on my name as I thought she would.

"He—Louis—he just… he said that—" I cut myself off as she moves me to my bed.

She sits down next to me and says in a soothing voice, "Marie, calm down." I start taking slow, deep breaths, but it only feels like it helps a little. Charlotte smiles as she sees me relax. "Good, good. See, you're fine. Now, tell me what's wrong."

I look at her and let out a little sob. "It's… it's a very long story."

"I've got time."

"Alright, I guess. Well, it started around 12 years ago. I was 17 when I came to Paris the first time. My father had been on the Musketeer of the Guard when it had existed, and that was always my dream, too, so I went to the captain's office and asked if he would consider putting me on the force. He didn't of course, so I became a palace maid. While I was there, I met three girls—also maids—who had the same exact dream that I had, so we kind of banded together. And then after discovering that the prince's cousin was plotting to kill him at his ball, we decided to stop him. So, long story short, the prince—well, I suppose 'king' now—deemed us musketeers for the service we did for him."

She looks at me curiously. "I don't see how this has to do with anything."

I sigh. "I'm getting there. Well, after that, we—the king and I—started to develop… feelings for one another." A wave of realization is what I think appears on her face at this moment. "It was involuntary, I'll admit, but after a while I really thought it was real love." I let out a shaky breath. "We were together for over three years. And then… I had been off duty. I knew there was something going on because Tréville had been acting strange, and I hadn't seen Louis for more than a week. They came for me at 3:32 in the afternoon. I spent two days in a cell before they brought me up to him. I begged to know what was going on, but they acted as if I were some piece of garbage they found on the street, not the woman who had saved many of their lives more than once.

"He—Louis, I mean—looked at me with such disgust. I didn't even know what was happening until it actually happened. I still remember those exact words that he said: 'Corinne D'Artagnan, I hereby banish you from Paris. If you ever try to challenge my executive order, I will have no choice but to sentence you to a warranted death.'"

I glance at Charlotte. Her face is near expressionless, but there's a look in her eye that I can't quite make out. My voice breaks as I say, "It was 4:37 in the afternoon. I remember because there was a clock in the room when it happened, and I had glanced at it the moment he said it." I shake my head. "I approached him that night. I explained that I had no idea what happened, and he said he believed me. When it was time for me to leave, he asked if I would come back after eight years. I agreed, and, eight years later, I did. But then after coming to the palace, one of the guards told me that Louis didn't want to see me and that I should leave Paris and never return. I broke down after that. I didn't want to live. I just wanted it all to be over.

"I met James not too long after that." I smile faintly. "He was my redemption, my revival, everything that made me want to live again. It was perfect for a while, but then things just started going insane. I got a job at the palace. It was stupid of me, but I did, and that's how we came to this point. One of those girls that I mentioned—her name was Renée—was said to be dead. Louis had sent the woman I was staying with—also one of the other friends—a letter telling her how sorry she was that Renée was dead. Later I found out that Renée was not dead and was just faking her death for the sake of something that she won't tell me yet. And today… I found out that she's been working with Louis on whatever she's been doing. He recognized me. He told me that he had no idea that I was in Paris, that he didn't even know I was alive. He begged me to forgive him. But… Charlotte, I couldn't. I've gone through so much in the past eight years, and that's all because of him. And now… well, I think we're all up-to-date."

She stares at me blankly, as if contemplating how to respond. "That's…"

I hold up a hand. "I know. It's a lot to take in, and I'm not even exactly sure why I'm telling you this, but I guess I feel like I can trust you." And I really do. I just get a nice feeling from her.

Charlotte nods her head slowly and smiles. "I appreciate you telling me. It makes a lot more sense. I had begun to wonder why you were so messed up."

She starts laughing, and, after I shook off the insult planted in there, so did I.

* * *

The next day drags on. Each hour is filled with the same mundane silence, and I'm nearly crawling out the door when it's time to leave. The Baudin Manor is too quiet, too. I'm just itching for something noisy, and messy, and uncontrolled, but I know that's not how things work anymore.

I'm told that I get dinner in my room tonight because the Lady Eleanor and Captain are going out. I don't bother eating. I haven't had much of an appetite lately, so I just lay in my bed and stare up at the canopy.

I hear a knock on the door, and, antsy for some excitement, jump up and swing the door open immediately. James stands there smiling with what I think is a mischievous glint in his eye. He grabs my hand and says, "Come with me." I go without another word.

I lose track of the halls we go through. Each look nearly exactly the same, but I trust that James knows where we're going. When we reach a stairwell, we go up flight after flight of stairs before stopping. Finally, we reach a door.

"Close your eyes," he whispers.

I do so and hear what I think is a door open, and cold air kisses my skin. I start to open my eyes, but James's hand blocks anything from view. "No, not yet," he says. "When I say go."

I nod and let him take me by the hand and out to what I assume is outside. We go around a corner and stop. James removes his hand and wraps his arms around me. It's only when he whispers "Go" into my ear that I do open my eyes.

I gasp. I was right. We are outside. But not just outside, I realize. We're on the _roof_. I can see so much from up here. It's the closest I've come to being in the balloon for ages, and it feels… it feels so liberating. I haven't been on a roof so high since Philippe's attack 12 years ago, and I know this can't be anywhere near as tall as the palace's, but being here just makes it all so worthwhile.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" James asks.

I don't turn to look at him when I breathe, "Yes."

"I thought you might like it. I've heard that you like heights."

That's when I turn to him. "How do you know that?" I ask.

He smiles. "Oscar told me."

"So you made up, then?"

He shrugs. "I wouldn't say 'made up,' really. More like, 'not completely hating each other.'"

I giggle and sit down on the cement of the roof. Looking up, I say, "Aren't the stars beautiful."

James sits down next to me and says, "Not as beautiful as you."

I groan, but the smile still stays on my face. "That was the corniest thing you've ever said."

"Well, you can't expect me to be a smooth-talker every second of the day. I'm not _that_ talented."

I giggle. "No, but you have so much potential."

He only replies with a laugh, and then the same silence that has been around all day fills the air. I keep glancing at him, pleading for something to say, begging him to speak, but it only makes it worse. Sighing, I lay down and try to make out constellations, but other thoughts keep distracting me, one of which is, "why am I here?" Perhaps I should ask him this, but I can't find the will to speak now. Honestly, I guess I don't want to know.

I feel his hand grasp mine gently. When he does this, I realize something: there have been so many things I haven't told him lately. About Renée (though, that one is understandable considering I don't feel like getting skinned), and Louis, and everything else. This is just one huge mess that I'm trying to solve myself, but I know that now I can't.

"James," I whisper, "can I tell you something?"

He rolls over to face me. "Of course. Anything."

I take a deep breath and let it out loosely. "I… Well, you know the story of how I got here, and how we came to be, but I haven't been telling you things lately."

"What?" he says, shaking his head. "What haven't you been telling me?"

"You remember my friend Renée?" He nods. "Well, it turns out that she's alive and working for the king. And… the king. He recognized me yesterday."

James's eyes widen, and he shoots up quickly. "WHAT? He recognized you, and you didn't even tell me?! Do you have any idea how stupid that is? You're a wanted criminal in Paris! He could throw you in the dungeon or worse at any second now!"

I stand up and set an arm on his shoulder. "James, he's… he won't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because… because he bowed to me, James!"

He blinks in surprise. "He… bowed… to you?"

I nod. "He got on his knees and bowed to me."

James says nothing, and I see why. This is almost unheard of among kings.

"Why?" he asks, whispering.

I will the tears enveloping in my eyes away. "He said he didn't have a choice to banish me or not. He said that he didn't know I was alive. He said…" I choke. "He said he loved me."

I see James's muscles tense. He stays deathly silent for a whole minute before asking, "And do you love him?"

These words hit me like a punch in the gut. Do I love him? Could I love him? Could I ever love him again, is probably the biggest question. Sighing, I reply, "No, not after what he's done to me. I love you and you alone."

He stares at me for a second. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course," I say. "Why? Is everything alright?" I start to get scared. Is this the end of the line? Is he leaving me after all we've been through?

Slowly, he reaches into his suit coat and drops to one knee. I put a hand over my mouth when I see him open a small box, revealing a diamond ring. "Corinne D'Artagnan, we've been through so much the past few months that we've known each other, and I know this may be sudden for you, especially considering all the painful tragedies you've gone through, but would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I take a step back, not exactly sure what to say. No. This… this couldn't be real, not after everything that's happened. There's no happy ending for me. There's no such thing as true love. This is a dream. This is a terrible, terrible dream. But when I look at him kneeling before me and see the hopefulness and dread in his eyes, I realize something:

This is not a dream.

I watch him carefully—well, as much as I can with teary eyes. He never once takes his eyes off mine. There is no such thing as true love. I know this for a fact. But there's only one thing I manage to say at this moment.

"Yes."

* * *

 **(A/N: Yassssssssssssssss! It finally happened! This was so awesome to write, like, omg. Hee. Well, this is the last update before NaNoWriMo, so I HAVE to finish the last chapter. I always stall the last chapter for as long as possible for some reason… Anyway, there are five chapters left. I've decided to take out one of the short drabble chapters and post that as a little extra. So, how did you guys like this chapter? Feel free to rant, fangirl, whatever you like to do!**

 **Replies:**

 **Decembra1998: Yassss! Finally, right? Hmm. James is Puppy Kitten, but what should Louis be? We can't have two Puppy Kittens. :D) Yeah, all that yelling at Renée is pretty stupid, but… Corinne's Corinne, and she and her stubborn hot-headedness is something that neither she nor I can change. (Well, I could, but then she really wouldn't be Corinne.**

 **Musketeer Corrine: *Fist bump* Mad Clouis forever! (Haha. Don't get me wrong. I still love James.)**

 **O.m.g: We should have a party, right? Just stand up and start fangirl dancing! :D Did you cry during this chapter at all for the… ahem… lack of Corinne/Louis? But, seriously. Let's throw a party! Nooooooooooo! James is ma Puppy Kitten! He can't die! :'(**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Heh, heh. I may have lied to you a little bit about them getting engaged… *Whistles* Sorry/not sorry.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: So… does this mean you no longer ship Jarinne? Is anyone shipping Jarinne anymore? Actually, I do have a heart. And a brain. And fingers, toes, tattoos, etc. :) I'd have to have a heart or else I couldn't write fluffiness. Or… live for that matter.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, guys! Wish me luck on NaNoWriMo!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	19. The Pleasure of Pain

**(Trigger warning: violent abuse in this chapter. Take caution and judge for yourself if you can handle this.)**

* * *

I wake up to sunlight drifting through my open curtains. Already, I know that Charlotte's been in here. Smiling, I sit up and stretch out my shoulders. As I run my fingers through my hair, I suddenly remember what the weight on my third finger is. I blush as I reflect back. We had been fighting, and then he proposed, and then we had kissed… a lot. I had forced him to bring me back to my room far past one in the morning, and he agreed, saying that we both had to get to work.

As I get dressed, I remember what everyone kept saying about me being James's fiancée. Philippe had known, and surely Oscar had, too. It makes me curious whether anyone else had known about this.

I have duties with Marlene today. The palace feels less drab than it did last time, but I'm not sure if it's the fact that the curtains are open, or that I'm actually happy. Shaking my head, I decided it was both. Marlene looks happier than usual, too, but I'm not sure why, though I'd like to know. It takes me longer than it should to figure out.

Marlene and I take our lunch break separately from the other girls today. The quietness in the parlor isn't awkward or dreaded, but it's instead comfortable between she and I. I take a sheet of paper out of my pocket that I stole from someone's office and the pen from a cabinet in the corner of the room.

 _Can you read?_ I write.

Marlene smiles. _You don't have to write in the paper. I can read your lips._

I blink in surprise. "Really?"

She nods. _Yes. I have since I was young_.

"Were you born deaf?" I ask.

 _No. I got sick when I was 7. They thought I'd be blind, but I'd always had bad hearing, anyway. Runs in the family._

"How are you today, Marlene?"

F _ine. I've been wondering why you've been so happy today. You're always moping around, but you seem enlightened today._

I giggle and hold up my left hand, letting her see the beautiful ring on my finger. A smile spreads across her face.

 _Wow! Congratulations! James Baudin is finally tying the knot? That's really big considering how long it's been since Georgia_.

I raise an eyebrow. "Georgia? Who's Georgia?"

 _He hasn't told you? Georgia was his fiancée about eight years ago. She was a maid who died in a rebel attack a week and a half before they were supposed to be married. So sad._

What? James was engaged before? Why hadn't he told me? But then I glance down at the paper again. Eight years ago?

"What was the date she died?" I ask.

 _February 9th_.

My voice catches in my throat. She died on the same day of that rebel attack, the one that killed his brother. I couldn't imagine…

 _He was torn to pieces, especially when he found out that Georgia had been cheating on him with his cousin for nearly a year._

"Oscar," I choke out.

Yes, that was his name. He's hated that boy ever since.

So that's why James hates Oscar. His fiancée died, and then he found out that she'd been cheating on him with Oscar. It makes perfect sense.

"That's—" I get cut off when the door swings open, and Madame de Bossé stomps over to me. She's stopped hitting the girls, but she still talks terribly to us.

"You!" She points at me. "You need to monitor the council meeting again."

My eyes widen. "N-no! I can't!"

"Oh, yes you will!"

I take a step back, nearly tripping over Marlene. "No, you can't make me."

De Bossé gives me a hard look and says, "Maybe so, girl, but you will if you want to keep this job!"

I swallow. I don't have to keep this job. It's not like it's helped, anyway, but… I don't want to leave these girls to this because I know de Bossé will go back to her old ways the minute I leave. Finally, I say, "Fine."

She smirks. "Good. Now, go! You can't be late!"

I glance at Marlene, and she gives me a reassuring nod. As I leave, I hear Madame say, "Now, you! Go do your duties, or you're fired!" My heart aches, and I'm once again reminded why I stay here.

As much as I try not to, I can stop my shaking hands. It's not about seeing Philippe, or even seeing him anymore, really. It's the fact that he knows who I am. I know what will happen when I get there. He won't stop glancing at me, but he won't say a word. He'll nod, and I'll do the same out of respect when on the inside I'm calling him every curse word I can think of.

I open the door to the chattery council room quietly. I nearly groan when Philippe calls me over. "Marie!" he says. "How are you today?"

I nod, trying to put a smile on my face. "Fine, thank you."

I gasp when I feel him grab my hand, and I immediately yank it from his grasp. He laughs and says, "Oh, it's alright. I don't bite." I tense as he grabs my left hand again, running his fingers across mine. "James has proposed now, hasn't he?" I nod, my voice caught in my throat. A smile spreads across Philippe's face. "Councilmen!" he shouts, and everyone looks over at us. "May I present the future Madame Baudin! The lad proposed last night, the rascal."

I blink in surprise. "T-thank you, s-sir. I… need to go to my station."

He laughs. "Oh, go right ahead, dearie!"

I turn around but run smack into someone. He doesn't move an inch, but I nearly fall to the ground before his hands catch me. "I'm so sor…" I trail off as I see his face. Those brown eyes. Louis. "Sorry," I breathe. He lets me go, but his fingers linger on my arms.

"Are you alright?" he asks. Again, I'm taken by surprise by the sound of his voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry." I hurry back to my own little corner, and that's where I stay. Like last time, no one asks for beverages or food. They just drone on about politics and whatnot, and around an hour later I find myself drowsy.

"WHAT?" I jump when I hear someone shout this. "THAT IS NOT WHAT WE AGREED UPON!" I realize it's Philippe shouting, and then I see who it's directed to. He rips a paper in half and throws it down on the ground. "What is the meaning of this?"

Louis looks at him a second before saying, "I just don't think limiting the supply of food even more will benefit anyone."

Philippe stalks toward him. "And who said you had a choice?"

I think I see his muscles tense, but I can't be sure. "I… I did."

It takes one second for Philippe to strike him in the face. I gasp, covering my mouth. What is happening?

"Oh, Louis. We have told you this time and time again. We are in charge. We make the rules. And you are nothing but our puppet. I really hope this is the last time I have to do this." Phillipe grabs Louis by the neck and throws him down on the ground. Two other councilmen hold him down.. Philippe stalks over to his desk a pulls out a long black whip. A whip. God, no. They can't be…

The two men that held him down use a pocket knife to rip the front of his shirt off, and it falls to the ground. They force him onto his knees. Complete submission—just like he did for me. I nearly scream when they bring the whip down on his back, but Louis doesn't even make a sound.

 _What's happening?_ my mind screams. I know I should do something. I have to do something. I may hate him now, but I did love him once, and it makes me sick to see him like this.

The whip comes down again. I can see blood start to trail down his back. And his back… it's scarred with gashes criss-crossing each other. How many times has this been done to him since I've been gone? Has it happened before then?

He's struck over and over and over and over again. Each strike makes me sick to my stomach, and I'm not sure if I can take much more, but then Philippe puts up his whip and says, "Hopefully this will teach you your lesson, Louis. Leave. We are done here." The men who were holding him down now shove him up to stand. He gasps in pain, the only noise he's made since this started. Louis pulls on his shirt and coat, grabs his papers, and nearly runs out the door. Even though I don't mean to, I follow.

He's nearly around a corner when I catch up to him. "Louis," I say. He just ignores me and keeps walking. "Louis," I repeat. Again, he doesn't stop. "Louis!" I set a hand on his shoulder, and he hisses.

"What, Corinne? What do you want?" He says this with such anger, such annoyance that I take a step back.

"I just… I want to help you," I say.

He rolls his eyes. "Why not just go home to your precious fiancé and leave me alone?"

"I… you need help, Louis."

He scoffs. "So you care about me now, huh?"

I snarl. "Where is your room?"

It looks as if he's about to reply but stops himself and gestures for me to follow. We say nothing to each other, and I'm glad for that. I notice that he walks with a slight limp, but I don't dare ask about it. I probably know enough to guess, anyway. He opens the door to his room and lets me through. The room looks exactly the same as when I left, which surprises me, but I don't question it much. He pulls out a metal box from under his bed and starts pulling off his shirt. It's already soaked with blood. I go to his washroom closet, pull out a towel, and soak it in water. He flinches when I touch his bloodied shoulder with the cloth.

"How long has this been going on?" I ask.

"Since… you l-left," Louis chokes out.

"And can you explain to me why Philippe and all those other convicts are on your council?" I move the cloth lower, and he hisses.

"B-B-Baudin. He… he did this."

"I know," I whisper.

"You know this and you're still marrying his son?"

That question takes me by surprise. "Yes."

"Why, Corinne?"

"Because I love him," I say.

"You said you loved me, Corinne. You said—" He groans in pain as I touch one of his lashes. "You said that before you left."

"It's been a long time. Things have changed."

He lets out a shallow breath. "Hell yeah, things changed."

"Exactly," I say. "And that's why I'm engaged to James. You banished me, Louis, and you can't expect me to feel the same way I felt eight years ago. Things are different, and they have been for a long time."

"Please stop reminding me of that," he whispers. "You don't think I remember? I know things are different. I've known it longer than you. I thought you were dead for four years, and I…" He chokes. "You have no idea how hard that is."

I shake my head and turn to face him. "No, what's worse is thinking that the one person you loved most in the world sent you away, lied to you, banished you, hit you—"

"I never hit you," he interrupts.

"Well, it's not like you ever did anything to stop it, did you?" He moves his gaze towards the floor. "Anyway," I say, continuing to clean his back, "there's no worse pain than that."

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" he asks, his voice a mere whisper.

I don't answer until I start applying some antiseptic ointment onto his lashings. "You have to understand right now that I'm far past sugar-coating. I've already told myself that I'd never forgive you."

His face falls. "Corinne—"

I hold up a hand. "I'm not finished yet. I've told myself that I'd never forgive you, but maybe I'll rethink it. I do understand now what they've been doing to you, and I understand that you may not have had a choice, but… Louis, I really want to say I forgive you. I really do. But I can't say it until I really believe it in my heart."

"So… you still don't?"

I shake my head and start wrapping his torso in bandages. "No, I don't."

When I finish, he goes to his dresser and slips on a shirt. As he buttons it, he asks, "Is it because of your fiancée?"

I blink in surprise. "No."

Louis throws his hands up in exasperation. "Corinne, I've tried so hard to understand. Please explain it to me. Why can't you forgive me?"

I stand and look at him in disbelief. "You seriously don't know? You banished me. You made me leave my home, my friends. You can't expect me to forgive you right away."

"How many times do I have to tell you that it wasn't me?"

I sigh. "I understand that it wasn't you, I really do. It's just… I can't forgive you. There's something inside me that won't allow me to."

"Your fiancée. It has to be him, Corinne. The Baudins are bad news. You know the captain's behind everything, but yet you stay with him. Why?"

"Because I love him, Louis! I love him! I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him, and you can't change that!"

He shakes his head and grabs my wrist. "Please. You have to understand. I love you, Corinne! I never stopped loving you. Not once. You were supposed to be with me. You were supposed to be mine!"

I gasp. "So this was just about some stupid jealousy thing? Well, newsflash! I am not your possession! I never was, and I never will be! You can go to hell!" I start to stomp off, but he grabs me again.

"Corinne, I can't give up on you. Yes, maybe it's jealousy, maybe I'm being possessive, but I have to be. Please, I'm begging you. Rethink this, rethink everything, and you'll see. I love you so much. You'd know that if you ever read my letters."

His letters. I had forgotten about those.

"How… You thought I was dead. Why did you keep sending me those?"

He lets out a loose breath. "I was in denial. I didn't want to believe you had really been dead. I sent you those letters, but I never dreamed that you had read them. Did you?"

I nod slowly. "Why didn't you tell me about anything happening?"

He looks at the ground, as if he's ashamed. "I was afraid of someone finding out. They'll go through the mail sometimes."

"I need to go," I say.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Back to your fiancée?"

My hands ball into fists. "No, actually. Back to making sure your maids aren't being hit by de Bossé."

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what?"

He lets out a shallow breath, and I realize he's on the brink of tears. "Everything."

I shake my head. "Keep apologizing, Louis. Maybe one day you'll learn sorry never fixes it." I turn to open the door, but I stop, my fingers still grasping the knob, when he says one last thing.

"I love you."

Tears envelop my eyes. My mind screams to say something, anything, really, but it just runs blank. I look back at him. Tears stream down his face as I watch him—so hurt, so broken, so fragile, on the edge of insanity, and so, so unloved. Exactly like me, I realize.

 _"Stupid, so, so stupid."_

 _"Lay with me, Corinne. Lay with me until morning." I bite my lip and nod as I sit next to him. After I lie down, he drapes an arm over me. Louis moves his mouth closer to my ear and whispers, "I'm sorry, Corinne. I'm so sorry."_

 _"Corinne, listen to me, okay? Come back in eight years; eight years exactly. Most people don't know this, but in France, after eight years, you are able to come back as long as it's anything less than murder. But you must plead your case to the king and beg to return. Unless, of course, you find a new life to live."_

 _I think for a moment. "I'll come back Louis. I promise."_

I promised him I'd come back, and I had. We've spent eight years apart from each other, and each day I had cried myself to sleep wondering why this had happened to me. It makes no sense, really. I should never had become a musketeer. I should never have fallen in love with the king. I should never have made so many enemies. I should never have survived that attack. I should never have been banished. I should never have devoted my life to him. I should never have come back. I should never have met James. I should never have gotten caught in this mess. I shouldn't be standing here right now.

 _"I love you."_

God, how I hate these words.

I look at him again. His lip quivers, and I know he's begging me to say something, anything.

There's an evil part inside of me, too. It's the one that takes satisfaction in seeing people suffer, and it only comes out during the absolute worst of times.

 _"I love you."_

I walk out of that room with a smirk spread across my lips, leaving the poor boy alone in that room.

And I can't describe how much it pleases me.

* * *

 **(A/N: Woooooow. That was intense. I've got to say, that last part is definitely one of my favorite endings in this story. So I've officially finished writing After All These Years, so you've got a couple more chapters until the end. Ugh, I can't believe it. Finishing a story is just one of the most amazing feelings ever! Especially when you have as much support as I have. :D So NaNoWriMo started on Sunday, and I'm over 10% of the way there to 50,000 words. Once I'm finished, I may publish it on FictionPress, but I don't know yet. Writing an original story is definitely different for two reasons: I have to make my own world, and I'm writing a male character. In my entire writing life and many failed attempts at books, I have never written a super long piece from a male POV that's scenes haven't already been established, so it's a big change. But, I'm working my way through it, and hopefully I'll be able to finish by the 30th!**

 **Tell me how you liked this chapter!**

 **Replies:**

 **Decembra1998: Thank you so much! The bowing down part was definitely one of my top fav scenes in this story. There's just so much to comprehend, yes! It's insane. OMG I loooove Kitten Puppy. Now I gots ma Puppy Kitten an' ma Kitten Puppy. :P Hee. Yasss. I'm super glad they FINALLY are engaged. I had been waiting forever to write that part. I knew they'd be getting married since, like, chapter 8. Nope, there's around two or three more chapters left. I can't remember.**

 **paris4eva: Hm. I guess you're not a James enthusiast. :D**

 **Turquisea: Heh. Yeah, probably not a good idea. You can bet Cor will not be telling James about that kiss. :P As much as I want her to punch Louis in the gut… I think he got all he deserved and more in this chapter. Ugh. Poor guy. Charlotte is definitely one of my favorite characters. :)) Hee.**

 **Haha. Nope. That ain't gon' happen. I'm glad at least you still ship Jarinne. I do that, too. Like, I ship Corinne/Louis, but I also ship Corippe (don't judge me Lol). It seems that everyone pretty much dropped James for Louis when he reappeared. :P**

 **Thanks for the reviews, guys!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	20. I Can't Let It Go

I start running. I don't know exactly where, but I just focus on getting out of here. It's not even noon, and I know that de Bossé will be very aggravated if I leave, but I'm not sure if I can spend one more second in this palace. I find madame in the kitchen and tell her I'm leaving.

"What? You can't leave yet!" she shouts.

I turn to her with a snarl. "I'm leaving, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You're fired!"

I smirk. "We'll see about that." I walk out the door and slam it behind me.

Smiling to myself, but also concerned for what de Bossé may do because of my outburst, I walk toward the gate to leave. As I go past the last part of the palace, I feel a hand pull me into a doorway. I'm nearly about to scream when I see who it is.

"Renée! Isn't there an easier way to get my attention rather than kidnapping me?" I groan.

She shakes her head. "We can't talk about this right now."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What? Is something wrong?"

"Come to the town's square at midnight. Bring Aramina."

I gasp. "You're finally revealing yourself to her! Wait, why?"

She sighs, as if I'm asking for too much. "Corinne, please. Just do as I say."

"If you're asking to bring Aramina then surely I can bring James," I say.

"No," she says simply and starts pushing me out of the building.

"Why not? You can trust him, Renée. I promise you can." I cross my arms over my chest and put the stubborn look that she hates on my face. She hates it because it usually works.

"Corinne…" She trails off, as if contemplating how to phrase her words. "Corinne, I'm going to put this simply: I don't trust James."

I scoff, throwing my hands up in the air. "Why am I not surprised?"

"He's a Baudin. He's the son of the man we're trying to kill!"

"Kill? Who said anything about killing?"

She looks at me in surprise. "You can't possibly be so naive. Killing him is the only way. If you and your James can't see that then you're not going to get through this. I guarantee that."

"Renée, you have to understand! It's his father! He can't kill his father, no matter how terrible he's done this city."

"Corinne, stop! You're ignoring the big picture! The Black Cobras are loyal to Baudin. We keep Baudin alive, they're still loyal to him!"

I shake my head. "There has to be another way, Renée. There has to be. It would kill James to have to murder his father."

"It doesn't have to be him to kill him. He doesn't even have to be there to watch."

"No, it's the fact that he'd be apart of the movement that killed his father. He has morals, and he'd never get over it."

"I have morals, too! We all have morals! But, you know, one of the biggest morals I have is not letting tyrants have power of innocent people." I look at her with the stubborn look again, and she sighs. "Fine, bring your sweet little James. And, please, no cats this time. I'm still picking fur sheddings from my sofa."

That reminds me that I haven't seen Miette in a while. I shake my head and pass it off that she's in that gigantic manor.

"Fine. I'll see you tonight at midnight," I say, nodding.

She nods back and pushes me out the door. "I hope you know what you're doing."

I'm not sure if she means being involved with this movement or bringing James, but I just shake my head and tell myself that this is what I want.

It hadn't taken much to convince James to come with me. I can pretty much get him to do whatever I want. We arrive at Aramina's apartment around 11:40, and she opens the door with a surprised look.

"Corinne, James! What are you—"

I pull her out of the apartment, cutting her off. "There's no time to explain. Let's go." I don't give her time to object before dragging her along.

The roads are quiet, as they usually are at this hour. The footsteps are the only noise we make besides the little interjections occasionally made by Aramina. We arrive at the town's square at 11:55.

Aramina sits on the fountain and lets out a loose breath. "Can you please tell me why you've kidnapped me now?"

I shake my head and start looking around for any glimpse of Renée. Knowing that she'd only be here at exactly midnight, I sit down on the edge of the fountain and lace James and my fingers together. Aramine takes note of that and gasps.

"You're engaged?!"

I blush and nod.

She giggles. "I'm so happy for you! And why the hell didn't you tell me?"

I shrug, letting out an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry. Time just… it got away from me, you know? Anyway, how are you doing?"

She bites her lip. "Well, we're all doing okay. Not much to tell, really. But your life must be so much more interesting! Tell me about it."

"Well, not much to tell either. Madame de Bossé's as—" I cut myself off as I hear footsteps coming from behind us. I turn to see a cloaked figure, and I know immediately it's Renée.

Aramina shrieks. "Who is that?"

I smile and grab her hand. "Come on."

We start following Renée in a fast-paced run. I glance at James and notice he's as pale as a ghost. I lose track of how many streets we pass again, but I figure it's most likely pointless to try. Fairly soon we arrive at Renée's building. She guides us up the stairs until we're at her doorway. She opens the door with a swing and just about shoves us inside.

"Hey, would you sto—" I cut myself off when I see who sits on her sofa.

Louis stands up immediately with a surprised look. "Corinne?"

"Louis?" I hear Aramina say.

"Aramina? Renée, I thought it was just you and I," Louis says.

Aramina gasps. "Renée?!"

Renée pulls off her hood and smiles. "Aramina."

Aramina lets out a shallow breath. "Renée!" She wraps her arms around her. "I can't believe it! I thought you were dead!"

Renée laughs. "Then the ploy must've worked, wouldn't you say, Louis?"

Aramina glances at Louis and stomps over to him, grabbing his coat collar. "You! How dare you show your face after what you've do—"

Louis laughs and prys her hands off him. "It's good to see you, too."

His eyes then land on me. Memories of yesterday flash through my mind. The whipping, the blood, his moans of pain. It's haunted me all day. I haven't been able to think about anything else. I briefly wonder if he still has the bandages on.

"Corinne," he says.

"Louis," I say.

"Louis?" James asks. I had completely forgotten about him. He takes a step closer to him. "Ah, so this is the damned man who banished you."

Louis narrows his eyes. "You dare to speak so bluntly, boy? Remember your place. I am still your king, and I can still have you sent to the dungeon, or even worse if I speak bluntly as you do. You should keep that in mind next time you decide to offend me."

James laughs. "Oh, I don't view you as anything more than an unworthy, useless, low-life who thinks of nothing but himself. You banished her."

"Shut up," Louis growls.

"You had her beaten by the men she once worked with."

"I'm warning you, Baudin."

"You let her lose her will and spirit."

"Shut up!"

"You said to come back, and when she did, she was denied."

"I'm telling you one more time. Shut. Up."

"You broke her."

"I said shut the hell up!"

It takes less than a second for Louis to punch James across the face. James doesn't fall to the ground, but blood seeps from his nose. He retaliates with another punch, and before I know it, they're in a huge brawl.

I grab James's collar and shove him into the door as Renée yanks Louis by the arms and shoves him into the sofa. I realize she grabs him by the arms is most likely because she knows about his whipping.

"Okay! You two need to cut it, or I will beat the damn crap out of both of you. " Renée turns to James. "You shouldn't have spoken to him that way. Frankly, I'm happy your nose is ruined. You have no idea what Louis has gone through. And you"—she turns to Louis—"need to stop being so short-tempered. I am not in a great mood today, and both of you will need to cooperate to survive the next few hours. Understand?" They both nod. "Good. Now, everyone find a seat please."

James and I sit next to each other, while Aramina sits next to Louis.

"How'd those fingers heal up?" he asks her.

She lets out a small laugh. "Fully-functional, actually."

"That's too bad. I still have a cramp in my jaw."

I look at James who starts tending to his nose with a cloth Renée gives him. Although I didn't necessarily like that they went after each other, I find it admirable that he'd stand up to a king for me.

"So I've been working on a plan to remove Baudin from his place as captain. The only way to do it, obviously, is to kill him."

"What?" James asks. "Kill him?"

"Is something wrong, James?" Renée asks, but there is no question in her voice.

"Yes. That's my father. You can't kill him."

"So you would rather see innocent people suffer than to sacrifice a tyrant?" James is about to reply, but Renée holds up a hand. "Listen, James. I'm sorry that this is so personal for you, but this is the only way. Either you're on board with this or you're not. You can't have it both ways. What will it be?"

"I…" I can see the conflict in his eyes—the right way and the wrong way to choose. He looks at me before saying, "I'll do it."

Renée smiles. "Good. Now, let's move on."

We discuss our plot for hours and hours on end. It's past three when Renée tells us all to go home. I look back at Louis as I leave, and I realize he's watching me. Shaking my head, James and I walk out the door and start back to his home.

I dream of nothing as I sleep, just some hollow black hole of nothingness, and I awake drowsy and unenergized. I make my way to the palace earlier than I need to, but I have nothing else to do. Madame de Bossé is waiting for me in the kitchen with her arms folded across her chest.

"Here already?" she asks.

I smirk, hanging my bag on a coat rack. "Been standing there all night?"

She snarls. "You will not get away with disrespecting me, girl. I don't know who you think you are, but—"

I grab her arm stare her in the eye. "Who I am is not any concern of yours. You may be my boss, but I will not let myself or any of your other maids be treated in such a way. I have more power here than you may think, de Bossé. Remember who you're speaking to." I shove past her and move out of the kitchen and into the halls.

I start walking to the stairwell where I usually meet the other girls each day, but I feel a hand grab my shoulder. It pulls me inside a room, and I curse. I make out Renée's face in the darkness as she shoves me into someone.

"Renée! What the hell?"

She opens a curtain, letting sunlight flood the room, and I suddenly realize who is holding me. "Louis! Renée!"

Renée smirks and heads toward the door. "I am done listening to you both mope about your problems with each other. You're staying here until you work it out. I'll see you later." She slams the door closed, and I hear the lock click.

I run up to the door and start beating against it. "Damn it!" I growl when I realize it's not budging.

"Is it really that bad to be stuck with me?" Louis asks.

My lip curls upward in a snarl. "Shut up. I don't want to talk to you."

He shakes his head. "And here I thought we were making such progress."

I scoff. "Well, you thought wrong."

He lets out a sigh. "What will it take for me to make it up to you? Say the words and it will happen."

I slouch against the door and start rubbing my temples. This cannot be happening. I really don't need this right now. "How about you sit in that corner, and I stay right here."

He raises an eyebrow. "Am I in timeout?"

"You should be."

He sighs. "Corinne, please. Maybe Renée is right. We need to stop going after each other like this. It's not good for anyone, especially you… and me. Can we at least try to talk?"

"Talk to yourself," I snap. "I'm done talking to you."

Louis groans. "God, I forgot how stubborn you are."

I shake my head. "You've forgotten a lot of things, obviously."

"What else have I forgotten?" he asks.

Gritting my teeth, I say, "How I hate to be bothered when I'm frustrated." I grab the flowerpot next to me and throw it at his head. He ducks, unfortunately, and it shatters on the ground.

"The hell, Corinne!" he shrieks. "You just tried to kill me!"

I smirk. "No, that probably would've only knocked you out for a while, sadly."

"You are being ridiculous! Why can't you forgive me for a mistake I made eight years ago, Corinne? Huh? I forgave so many of yours. You can at least extend me the same courtesy."

"I hardly think that banishing me is at the same level as most of my blunders, Louis, and don't act like it is."

He sighs. "Please, stop. You don't know how hard this has been for me."

"You?" I seethe. "How hard this for you? I'm not going to pretend anymore. I hate you. I hate you more than I can describe."

He smirks. "Then try to. Show me how you feel."

I growl. I have no idea why I'm so angry, but there's something so infuriating about him. My eyes search the room and rest on two shiny swords decorating the mantle of a fireplace. I grab one and charge at Louis. I know that this is an unfair fight, but this part of me-this insane, unreasonable, reckless part-is practically begging to come out.

In literally a split-second before my sword comes in contact with his chest, he steps to the side and sends me flying. I fall to the ground with a thud. Louis walks over to the mantle, as calm and level-headed as a person can be, and takes off the other sword.

"Try again, darling," he says, a smirk lining his lips.

My cheeks redden at the mention of my old pet name. I charge at him again, but this time instead of stepping away, he blocks my strike with one flick of his wrist.

My eyes widen. How...?

"Don't think I'm the defenseless boy you left here in Paris, Corinne," he whispers. "Don't think I haven't changed."

I try striking him, but he does it again. Again, and again, and again. I release my sword, and it clatters to the ground. "How?" I ask, whispering.

"I asked Renee to teach me. I wanted... I wanted to feel closer to you."

In spite of myself, a smile tugs at my lips, but I shake my head. "No, I mean how can you still want me when I've been so awful to you?"

Louis drops his sword next to mine and takes my face into his hands. "Because I love you."

Tears fill my eyes as I whisper, "I love you, too." I don't even know why I say this, I don't even know if it's the truth. But there's a part of me that doesn't care.

Without another word, Louis presses our lips together, and this time I don't fight back. His fingers gently trail down my face and back, resting on my hips. I grab the back of his neck and kiss him more forcefully than before, letting him wrap his arms around me. His lips move down my neck slowly, and then back up the same path. I let my fingers move down his back, up his chest, and let them lace around his neck again.

He kisses me. Again, and again, and again, and again. I forgot how amazing this felt. Yes, I had kissed James many, many times, but there was something so fulfilling about Louis that James doesn't have.

All at once, my mind realizes this is wrong. James. I'm engaged to James. I'm marrying James. This is... This is so wrong.

But my mind can't seem to will myself to stop.

I tangle my fingers into his hair, relishing the softness that I haven't felt in so long. I hear a bit of chatter in the hall, but I pay very little attention to it.

He whispers my name. I can't even imagine how long he's waited for this.

"I love you," I whisper, pulling away. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He kisses me again.

The chatter in the hall grows louder, and suddenly the door unlocks and swings open. I try to detangle myself from Louis, but we end up falling to a heap on the floor. My lipstick covers his lips, cheeks, and neck, and his hair is a downright mess. I doubt I look any better.

I turn around, and my breath catches. James stands in the doorway, frozen, a look of betrayal in his eyes. I gasp and quickly shove Louis off me. "It's not what it looks like," I say quickly. But who am I kidding? He's seen enough to know.

With a slight shake of his head, James turns and darts out the door. I don't hesitate to go after him, and I don't even look at Louis as I do it. I catch up to James quickly, even though he's running. I try grabbing him a couple times, but he's always just out `of my reach. Finally, he stops and turns around. I can see the tears in his eyes.

"James," I say, trying to set a hand on his shoulder.

He shoves my hand away with a snarl. "Don't even start," he says, his voice cracking.

"Please," I beg. "Just listen."

He shakes his head, "Why... why should I? Has it all been a lie this entire time? Did you ever love me?"

"Yes!" I say. "James, none of it was a lie! I love you! Please."

"You don't know what I've been through, Corinne. I lost... I lost—"

"I know. Marlene told me."

"So you knew and you still did this to me?"

Yes, I had. I can't believe I did, but I still did it. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, putting his face in his hands. "I loved you so much, Corinne. I thought... I thought you felt the same."

"I do! I do, James! Please." I grab his hand, but he yanks it from me.

He heaves an unsteady breath and lets it out slowly. "Just... leave me alone, Corinne. Please just leave me alone."

"Does this mean"—I choke—"we're over?"

"I don't really know anything right now." He leaves, and I sink to the ground. After a few minutes of sobbing, I stand and walk back to the room Louis and I were just occupying. Sure enough, he's there.

I stand in the doorway, my red cheeks illuminated by the sunlight, and whisper, "I will hate you... until my last breath."

* * *

 **(A/N: Woooooow. Corinne, what have you done? I'm just so frustrated with you! UGH. I mean, seriously. After all that time? Really? Anyway, the next chapter is gonna be INTENSE. Like, super intense. It's going to be the third to last chapter, so we're pretty close to the end, but I still might be writing some scenes from other POVs like Louis's when I'm done with NaNoWriMo. And speaking of NaNoWriMo, I've got about 21,500 words written of my book! Would any of you guys be interested in reading it if I finish and after the editing months?**

 **Replies:**

 **Lysitta Lennon: Haha. It's fine. I think freak-outs are pretty hilarious, actually. Nope, nope, you knew from the start that Philippe was bad news. I mean, being out of prison for… who knows how long and having to look at that cousin who has what should be yours every day? It seems like there will be a lot of pent-up anger from those years in prison. But you're right. It is intense. Hey, you are more than welcome to. I would not be upset at all. I'm not sure how you're going to react to the ending though. It's just… agh, I can't even say it. And, it's completely fine! Don't even worry about it. ;)**

 **Decembra1998: #plottwist Am I right? I just loooove how almost every one of you just dropped James the second Louis came back. Lol. That's great. Hey, you're not alone. When i first saw the movie (about three or so years ago), I had a crush on him, too. Haha.**

 **Turquisea: Mmmm, yeah. Louis always could have tried to stop Philippe, but… meh, that's just me. Haha, and no problem. Corinne honestly doesn't seem like that type of girl, but I'm starting to question that, though, because of this chapter. Bahaha. That is so accurate.**

 **paris4eva: Ugh, I know. It's so sad!**

 **Despicable Margo: Finally! At least someone ships Jarinne still! You do still ship them, right?**

 **PrincessGeekelle: :( I know. It's so sad. Bahahaha. You are so right. Lol.**

 **Guest: Mmm. That is true. Fair point, fair point. But… well, you'll see.**

 **Maryam969: Nope, not the end, but we're getting there! I can't wait! Thank youuuuu! But are you sure I'm a girl?**

 **Thanks so much everyone!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	21. My Bones May Break, But I Never Will

I don't stay at the Baudin's that night—I'm too afraid that I'll run into him. I rush to Aramina's and let her hold me while I cry. I explain to her what happened between breaths, asking her what I can do, telling her how sorry I am, begging her to end my life right now. When she hears that, she gasps and smacks me across the face.

"You… You have to stop acting like this, Corinne! Yes, you made a mistake that cost you a lot, but that doesn't mean you get out of it. You have to work and try to fix this mess because that's what you do. You are Corinne D'Artagnan, and you are never more set on anything than in times of crisis."

Tears stream down my face, and I silently pray that they'll run out soon. Shaking my head, I say, "I'm sorry, Aramina. I really am. I just… I've worked so much, and… I've tried so hard, and I… I can't lose him now. I can't. I've hurt him in the worst possible way, and I can't describe how sorry I am."

"Then tell that to him."

I nod, deciding that I will go and find him tomorrow.

I leave the house just as the first rays of sunlight light up the streets. The air seems so quiet, so peaceful, and that's the complete opposite of what it feels like inside me right about now. I could throw up from nervousness if I had anything in my stomach.

Each step I take feels like a leap, especially when I approach the Baudin Manor. The guards there, new ones that I've never seen, gold pins on their collar, let me enter as soon as they see me. I enter the manor slowly, and I'm surprised to find that there's no one in the halls. Even though it's early, maids and such usually bustle around to prepare for the day.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I walk into the manor more, and still, I find the same result. I go up to my room, and Charlotte's not there. Being braver, though there's a nervous pit in my stomach, I end up in front of James's room. Taking a deep breath, I open the door.

Nothing.

Finally, I come to a conclusion that I couldn't force myself to think:

There is no one in this house.

I walk into his room with shaky hands. I had never seen it before, but I had hoped to one day. His bed is covered in a rich blue duvet, and the floor is covered in black and blue carpets. Lining one of the walls is a desk, completely free of clutter, except for one piece of paper. It lays out, perfectly unwrinkled, ink crawling across the page. My breath catches as I read it.

 _Corinne,_

 _Meet me at the palace. We need to talk._

 _James_

I let out a shaky breath and run from his room. A million what-ifs run through my mind as I leave. Does he want to try to work things out? Does he want to forgive me? Does he want to leave me forever? Does he want his ring back?

I reach the palace within the hour, not ever letting myself slow to a walk. Again, the normal guards, Eli and David, aren't at their post. It's another Black Cobra with the same gold pins as the others. Shaking my head, I run into the palace and find, yet again, it's completely empty. No de Bossé, no maids, no one.

I start walking, hoping to find James instead of the silence that follows me. I turn down hall after hall, but everything's the same. That is, it is until a voice comes from behind me.

"You there! You must come with us!"

I turn around to see three Black Cobras. Furrowing my eyebrows, I nod and let them lead me to wherever we're going. Fairly soon I realize we're not leaving the palace. I gasp when they shove me into a dark room and close the door. Almost instantly, sunlight fills the room after a curtain is pulled. I gasp when I see what sits in front of me.

Every single person who I know and love—and some I don't—sit in front of me, tied up and gagged. At the head of the line stands Captain Baudin and the councilmen.

"Ah! What a delight that you could make it, my dear!" Baudin says, a sickening smile on his face. "We've been waiting for a long time."

My hands start to shake. "W-what's going on here?" I ask weakly.

Baudin laughs and gestures to the group of people. Immediately, my eyes find James. And Louis. And Aramina. And Oscar. And… oh God. Renée. "Well, you have arrived in time for the grand finale! You see, I was fooled for the longest time about you and your love for my son. It was endearing, yes, but I realized it was all a ploy after one of my men overheard you speaking with your co-conspirator. Which one, I won't say, but they know who they are."

I let out a shaky breath. "P-please. D-don't hurt them."

Baudin laughs again. "Oh, I won't hurt them. They'll just be thrown in prison for the rest of their life. It's you I'm going to hurt. Enjoy this sunrise because it will be your last." He smiles at the look of fear in my eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I'll make it quick."

"Will you at least tell me what I'm being charged with?" I ask.

He narrows his eyes, his face now completely neutral. "You killed my son."

I shake my head, my eyes flickering over to James. He seems pretty alive. "What?"

"You killed my son!" he shouts. "You killed Andrew, and now you're trying to take France away from me!"

"What? No! I didn't. I swear."

"You liar. Never mind. You will not have a quick death. I will cut you up, piece-by-piece, until you finally admit what you've done."

My eyes widen. "No. I swear to you I didn't. I—"

"Actually," a voice says, "she didn't kill Andrew."

I look over to see Oscar standing up. Immediately guns are cocked and aimed at Captain Baudin and the councilmen's heads. .

"I did."

I let out a gasp. What? What's happening here?

Oscar smirks, looking over at me. "Don't look too surprised, D'Artagnan. It was all a matter of time." He gestures to one of his men, and they hit Baudin in the head, and he slumps to the ground in unconsciousness

"Oscar," I whisper. Oscar. It was Oscar. He was the one who killed Andrew. He was the one who made Captain think I killed him. That was why he hated me. He thought I killed his son.

"I've been after you a long time, D'Artagnan. You probably don't remember me considering how many men you destroyed, but I'll let you guess. I was 16 when I released a deadly disease into the palace, sickening the king and many of the servants. After further investigating, young Corinne D'Artagnan figured out it was me and threw me in the dungeon, but not before I vowed to kill you before my 28th birthday! Well, guess what? In three day's time, it's my 28th birthday!"

I shake my head, letting out a breath. No. No, it couldn't be. "Warner August," I whisper.

He smiles. "That's right! Good job!"

I glance over at Louis and see the life draining out of him. The disease that Warner had released nearly killed him, but I had been able to find a cure, thank God. "Please, Warner. Isn't there anything I can do?"

He says only one thing as he takes a gun off his belt: "No."

My gaze moves to James. His eyes plead something, but I can't figure out what it is.

"Can you at least free them?" I ask. "It's not their fault."

He smirks. "I figured the best way to make this death as painful as possible is to kill everyone you love first."

This hits me like a punch in the gut. He's going to kill them. He's going to kill all of them. James. Aramina. Renée. Louis. I even notice Eli and David, and other maids, and… no. Aramina's daughter.

"Let Aramina's daughter go! She's innocent! She knows nothing of this!" The little girl's eyes find me, and I can see the pure terror inside them.

Warner narrows his eyes and grabs Juliet by the collar. He shoves her in front of me and places the gun on her head.

"NO!" I scream, but Warner just laughs.

"Don't think I'm a monster, Corinne." He shoves Juliet away from him and starts walking back towards the others. "I don't take joy in harming innocent children. After all, we were all innocent once." He says this with a hollowness in his voice that I can't help but wonder what he means.

I stare at him a moment before turning back to Juliet. "Leave the palace. Tell somebody we need help," I whisper to Juliet. Her lips quivers, but she nods and runs from the room.

"And now…" Oscar walks towards the group.

Trish. Delilah. Marlene. Reagan.

Tears start streaming down my face. This is all my fault. If only I had stayed out of Paris like I was supposed to then this wouldn't be happening, these people wouldn't die.

Emily.

She stares at me, her eyes wet and pleading, almost apologetic. _I'm sorry_ , I mouth to her. She shakes her head, and her eyes flicker to James. His cheeks are lined with red cuts and swollen, purple bruises. He must've put up a fight.

I notice Warner again as he grabs Eli by the collar and points his gun at his head. "Please," I say. "Please, Warner. Don't do this. I'll give you anything you want. Just… don't kill them. It was me. It was all me." I will beg for them. I will beg until my voice gives away and it's just my lips that move. "I'm sorry."

Warner shakes his head, a vile smirk on his face. "It's too late to apologize." Not a second later the gun goes off and Eli slumps to the ground.

"NO! PLEASE, STOP!" I scream. Sobs shake my body. I didn't even know him that well, but he was innocent. He knew nothing of this plot.

I can tell Warner is enjoying this. His men take Eli away as I beg him to stop. "He didn't know anything," I whisper.

"Ah, but, you see, what you don't know is that I invited them to join my men—surely you've noticed the gold pins—but they declined. I had warned them that terrible, terrible things would happen, but, alas! They said no." He grabs my jaw. "And you never say no to me." He releases me and stalks over to the group again. "Who next?"

I can see the fear in their faces as Warner searches through them. I continue begging, but he doesn't even glance my way.

Warner grabs David, and… does the same thing he did to Eli. I can hear the shrieks coming from Trish, Delilah, Marlene, and Rachel, and I remember that he was their brother. I cry with them, again begging for Warner to stop.

"Warner! This has to stop now!" I look over to see Philippe speaking out despite the gun pressed on his head.

Warner smirks and nods toward the gunmen. One shot later, Philippe lays on the ground—dead. "Anyone else want to try?" he asks the other councilmen. They all shake their heads, retreating a step back. "I didn't think so." Warner moves around the group again, like a shark circling its prey. David's sisters still sob, but it's muffled by the gags.

I feel myself getting sick as I glance at the blood-stained floor. I keep begging Warner, but I think it only makes him want to kill them more. My head runs through so much at once. What I've done wrong, who I've betrayed, who will die because of me. More tears stream down my face as I realize what a terrible person I am. They're all going to die, and it's going to be all my fault.

Before I can let him get another person, I ask, "Can you at least tell me how you found out about me?"

Warner smirks. "Well, I had a hunch when you told me about yourself on the roof, and it was confirmed when you told my dear confidante."

"Your what?"

He gestures to the side of the room, and then I see that brilliant orange hair. "Charlotte," I whisper.

Charlotte wraps an arm around Warner. "Hello, Corinne. How wonderful to see you again."

Tears fill my eyes, and a feeling of betrayal finds a way into my chest. "Charlotte… how could you?"

Her red lips expand into a vile grin as she comes closer to me. "You have no idea what it's like to be stepped on over and over again. You may think you do, but you have no idea."

"What are you talking about?" I ask. Looking over at James, I see that Warner's removed his gag.

"Warner, please," he begs. "Let her go." Warner just walks away, shaking his head.

Charlotte walks over to James with an evil look in her eye, as if she's about to gut him right now. "You don't recognize me?" she asks, a sickeningly sweet tone to her voice.

He shakes his head. "No."

"WELL, LOOK CLOSER!" she screams. "Who am I James? Who was the person who begged for your attention time and time again? Who was the person you had rarely spent time with, even after we were engaged? Who, James? WHO?"

James sucks in a breath, realizing who she is. "Georgia," he whispers. "You're alive."

Georgia lets out a high-pitched laugh. "Finally! Finally, you realize that I've been under your nose all this time!" She wraps her hand around her orange locks and pull until they fall to the ground, unleashing a huge bundle of chocolate-colored hair.

I can see the tears in James's eyes as he says, "H-how? I thought you were dead, Georgia."

She shakes her, curly hair bouncing all around. "I loved you, James. I really did. But you were more obsessed with your work than you cared about me, and I was sick of it! Warner—he-he-he treated me like I wanted to be treated. He gave me the time of day. He loves me." She goes and laces her fingers through Warner's.

Warner glances at her, that sickening smirk still on his face, and throws Charlotte—Georgia, I suppose now—onto the ground, pressing a gun to her forehead. She stares at him with pleading eyes. "Warner, w-what's g-g-going o-on?"

He shakes his head. "It's been fun, Georgia, and I really do appreciate the information about Madame D'Artagnan here. But I'm afraid it's the end of the line. See you in Hell."

"You son of a bi—"

Georgia doesn't even have time to finish her sentence before a bullet is planted squarely in her head.

I hear James's scream as my vision blurs. Most days I'd be mad that he'd react this way to a woman he's not even with, but today is not like most days. Today is the day that I—that we all—die. I could always run—I know the passageways like the back of my hand. I could always save myself… But if these people died, and I lived, then I never would be saved. I'd be living in constant knowingness that I have blood on my hands, whether I directly killed them or not. I can't live with that. If they're going to die, then I'm going to die, too.

"Corinne," I hear a voice say. "Corinne, listen to me." James, I realize. "He's trying to break you. He's trying to make these deaths seem like they're your fault, but they're not. I promise you they're not."

"Shut up," Warner growls.

"He's right, Corinne," another voice says. I look over to see Trish speaking, her gagged worked out and that now hangs in her neck. "This is not your fault. We were associated with you, yes, but every single one of us was asked to join Warner at one time or another. This is revenge, and this is making this as painful as possible for you. Don't listen to him, okay?"

I shake my head, digging my fingernails into my arms. "No, this is my fault. I caused this, and now we're going to die."

"No, Corinne." Another voice. Louis. "I know you hate me, but, please, listen to them."

I feel like curling up into a ball and dying. I can't take this anymore. "Okay, you've won, Warner. You've broken me, even though I already was."

He laughs. "Oh, I know. But, this is so much more fun."

"Kill me," I whisper. "Please."

Warner shakes his head. "The party's not even over yet. We still have so much to do. Now, who's next?" I furrow my eyebrows as he grabs a brunette that I've never seen before. "You may be wondering why I chose this girl out of everyone, and that's because I think you may know her. Have you ever met Viveca?" He pulls off her gag.

I gasp. No. No, it couldn't be. She's in England, safe and sound with her husband. But my eyes don't deceive me. She's sits in front of me with, dare I say, a smirk on her lips. "Hello, darling. Good to see you again."

I break down in tears. "V-viveca, I-i'm s-s-s-sorry!"

She sets a hand on my shoulder, and I realize she's not tied up. "Hey, it's okay. I've been very productive during my time on Earth. It's fine, really." She winks at me, and I suddenly realize what she's about to do.

It takes one second for her to take a gun out of her pocket and shoot the men holding the councilmen at gunpoint. Before she steadies her aim on Warner, she presses the gun to my head. "One more step, Warner, and I will kill her, and all your work will be worth nothing."

He narrows his eyes. "You're fibbing."

"Am I? Surrender, and everything can go peacefully, okay?"

A smirk tugs at his lips. "I don't think so."

The gun is taken off my head, and as Viveca comes into my view, I see that three men hold her at gunpoint.

"I'm sorry, Corinne," Viveca whispers.

I shake my head. "You tried. That's all you can ever do."

Warner laughs and cocks his gun again. "Well, that was a delightful reunion, but let's get back to the show!" My eyes widen as he grabs Emily by the hair. A mere five seconds later, her body is being carried off by one of Warner's men. I look at James, and I can see the tears streaming down his face.

Not wasting a second, Warner takes Trish by the hair and shoves her to the center of the floor. "Rumor has it that you two are good friends. What better way to spill the beans than gossip? Or should I say, spill the marbles?"

De Bossé. It was damned de Bossé who told him of her standing up for me. If I get out of here alive, which is not likely, I will skin that woman alive.

Warner presses the gun to the back of Trish's head, and she closes her eyes just as if this were only a slap in the face. I suppose that that is exactly what it is to her—a slap in the face.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She smiles, her eyes still closed. "You've done nothing wrong, Corinne."

I want to close my eyes. I want to close my eyes so, so badly. But I force myself to watch, to be as brave as Trish is. I could never be, really, but I can try, just this once, at least.

I see Warner's finger on the trigger twitch, and then… she falls.

I start sobbing.

I start screaming.

I start cursing Warner, and Paris, and my damned self.

I fall to the ground.

I don't even feel it when I do.

All that I feel right now is that intense hate for everything in my heart. There's no such thing as love. There's no such thing as kindness. There's no such thing as beauty or friendship or compassion or mercy or forgiveness or humility or justice or grace. It's all a lie.

Everything.

Is.

A.

Lie.

A figure—a black blur—moves. Something clatters to the ground. James. He's knocked Warner's gun away, and now he's fighting him. The three men holding Viveca try to go and help, but she shoots them as soon as they take the guns off her head.

The gun he had is shoved away, and both James and Warner scramble for it. They grab each other's ankles like little boys, as if this were just a game. As Warner's hands reach the gun, and he fires, a bullet from Viveca hits him in the leg.

I hear screams of agony, one from Warner, and one from… God, no. James lays on his back, clutching his chest as blood drips down his shirt slowly, forming a small pool on the floor. I scream and run toward him, clutching his head in my hands.

"Someone, please! Get a doctor!" I shout.

James groans in pain, and shakes his head. "No."

"What?" I say breathlessly

"No, I don't want a doctor," he says.

I look at him as if he were crazy, which he must be. "James, you've been shot! You need a doctor!"

"No! I don't want one!" He reaches up and grabs my face, letting out a moan of pain as he does this. "I'm going to die, Corinne." I try to object, but he presses a finger to my lips. "I'm going to die, but I don't want it to be on a table surrounded by white walls and doctors. I want to die in your arms, your face the last thing I see before I go."

Tears start falling down my cheeks as he releases me. "James, no, don't talk like that. You're going to be all right."

"No, no, I'm not. He hit me in the chest, and do you see how much blood I'm losing?" He says this so calmly that I nearly laugh. The pool of blood on the floor has grown since I last looked, and I realize that some has gotten on my hands.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through."

He smiles lightly. "Oh, Corinne… You've hurt me, yes, but there's nothing in this world that I love more than you. Always remember that."

"So you forgive me?" I ask timidly.

"I was never really angry. Hurt, and tired, and upset, definitely, but there was never a question whether I was going to forgive you." He gasps in pain, and then I know he doesn't have much time left with how much blood he's losing. "Will you…?" He trails off.

"Will I what?"

"Be my Juliet," he whispers.

"Okay," I whisper, my voice caught in my throat. If this is his last request, then I will do it. It's the least I _can_ do.

"And sails upon the bosom of the air."

I had studied this over and over again, especially this scene, and I can recite it by heart now, and thank God I can.

"O-o Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" he recites.

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name, which is no part of thee

Take all myself."

"I take thee at thy word.

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized.

Henceforth I never will be Romeo."

James coughs, and I suddenly see how large the pool of blood has gotten. I swallow the lump in my throat and say, "Don't leave me, James. You were my one hope. You helped fix me after I had been broken. I can't live without you."

He shakes his head. "It wasn't me that mended you. It wasn't me or anyone else. It was all you, and I promise that one day it'll be like I never existed." He sucks in a breath. I notice his face has gone white, as if he were a ghost. "I want you to live life, enjoy it. There's so much the world has to offer." He glances at Louis, who stares at us while sitting alone in a corner. "And forgive him, Corinne. He's been through so much in all his years, and… I'm not saying that you need to marry him, or anything. I'm saying that you need to forgive him, and let him know that."

I nod, tears streaming down my face. He's right. This hatefulness against him needs to stop. "James, if I do all you're asking of me, will you promise me one thing?"

He nods. "Anything, my love."

"Say hello to my father."

I can see the tears in his eyes as he weakly squeezes my hand. "Of course."

He caresses my knuckles gently. I watch as his breathing gets sharper, and his grip weakens. "I love you," I whisper. Moving over to his right side, I bring his head onto my lap. I brush his dark hair out of his face and stare into his eyes for possibly the last time. White. So, so white.

"I love you," he says finally.

It takes one minute for his breathing to cease, one minute for his heart to stop working, one minute until I can never hear his voice again, one minute until sobs overtake me, one minute until I feel like I'm at the lowest I can be. As my shoulders shake, inhuman wails coming from my mouth, I admit something that I could never feel is possible:

James is dead.

I feel someone try to touch my shoulder, but I slap their hand away, not wanting to let go of him. I glance around and see Captain Baudin, now fully awake, sobbing. Everyone stares at me, but I don't even care.

"I'm glad he's dead," I hear someone say.

I whip my head around to see Warner, clutching his leg, but wearing that sickening smirk. "What did you say?" I ask, my voice dangerous.

"I'm. Glad. He's. Dead."

Gently, I slide James's head on the ground and stand up. The smirk stays on his face as I walk over to him. "You have no idea how much I want to kill you right now, but I'm going to keep you alive because I want to see you suffer."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Shut the hell up," I growl.

"You know, I always knew that my fate would be in your hands somehow. And I can't wait to see what sick games you want to play," he says.

Just like Emily. Just like Georgia. Just like Eli and David and Trish and… and James, it takes one shot to have Warner crumple to the ground.

* * *

 **(A/N: …. Wow. Wow, I… I don't even know what to say. This chapter… oh… I just… I can't even… Sorry.**

 **Replies:**

 **Despicable Margo: Haha. Thank you, but I'm getting better at writing them, so stay tuned! Yes, it's from Blank Space! You know how much of a Taylor Swift junkie I am, so… yeah. Well, do you ship Jarinne now?**

 **Musketeer Corrine: his reaction was so… so raw and hurt, right? It makes me love him even more. 3**

 **Maryam969: Nope. Not a dream, and this isn't, about Love Me Like You Do, well, I'm still working on it because I want it to be absolutely perfect before I publish it. It's definitely one of my favorites, and I still want to publish it, but it's taking a lot longer than expected.**

 **Decembra1998: Was Siberia even around back then? Haha. Have to look that up. You know how it is with love triangles and stuff. *Shakes head* They can never make up their mind. But I mean, Corinne thought Louis betrayed her for so long when in fact he had no choice, and now she's coming to realize that, and old feelings are surfacing, and just… it's all a big mess.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: I know, right?! I always know exactly who I ship in love triangles, but it's so hard to choose between her old flame and the puppy kitten!**

 **Guest: Nope, nope. Sorry. Not kidding. ;)**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Bwahahahahaha! :D That's just too funny. Yeah, completely defenseless Louis isn't as appealing as this one, just sayin'. ;) You know, I think we have absolutely established you think James is a liar. Lol. And it is up to you now to decide whether he was really genuine or it was all a ploy. Were you ready? Were you?**

 **Thanks for so many reviews, guys!**

 **And, oh, I would also like to say #prayforparis #prayforbeirut #prayforbaghdad #prayforjapan #prayformexico. The Paris attacks hit me really hard, and it's not because I have family member or friend that was injured or killed, but it's because of the city, the people, and these characters here. I'm working on a oneshot centering on these attacks also. And if anyone from any from the countries/cities are reading this, stay safe, everyone, and stay strong. Things will get better and my heart goes out to all of you no matter what your religious or political views are. 3**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	22. Long Past Insanity

Viveca's fingers move gently over my skin as she tries to cover up the scars on my arms. Jerking myself away, I whisper, "No, keep them."

She nods once and continues applying makeup to my face. She works quickly, never once letting herself waver, even though we've been at this for two hours. Finally, she hands me a mirror and lets me see myself. A deep red color, almost the shade of blood, is applied to my lips, and my face is covered in powder until it looks near white, though, it was already that color before.

I let out a sigh and nod my consent. I know she worked hard on this, but I can't bring myself to thank her. Not for what it's for.

"Just tell them you don't want to go," she says.

I wish I could. I honestly do. The funeral… _his_ funeral. They expect me to show up looking presentable and emotionless, but I can't do that. I loved him too much to do that.

I shake my head. "I have to. They need to know I was there for him."

Viveca smiles faintly. "He seemed like a great man. I'm sorry I never really met him."

"I-it's not your fault, Viveca. Even if it was, it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone, and… that's all there is to it."

She gasps, taking my hand. "No, Corinne, no! He is still here with you. You just can't see it."

I rip my hand away from hers. "Please don't do that. I can't stand it when people go on about how a dead person is in the air you breathe and in the joyful smiles of children. I can't."

"Corinne—"

I turn away from her and say, "Can you please leave? I-I need to be alone."

Viveca leaves without another word, and I immediately feel sorry for what I said, but I really don't care right now. I'll apologize later.

Slowly, I let tears start falling. I know I'll ruin my makeup, but I'll just patch it up in a few minutes. There will be no way I can stop this. Almost as quickly as the tears began, I start sobbing. Sobbing for James. Sobbing for Emily. Sobbing for every other person that died that day. Sobbing for every person who ever died because of _me_ , and who knows how many others there's been?

How many people have to die before they realize I'm not a hero? I… I've never been, and I never will be. Why can't they realize that? I'm not the girl I used to be.

Looking around the room, I spot Viveca's sewing scissors. I had been so hysterical for the first few days after James's death, and wound up trying to commit suicide several times, but someone got me every single time. Eventually, they locked me up in an empty, windowless room until I could calm down.

Someone knocks on the door, but I don't bother answering it. I grab the scissors and run my fingers across the blades. Slowly, I pull the scissors toward my chest, wanting to feel as much pain as possible. I gasp in pain as I feel a trickle of blood run down my chest.

When I'm about ready to plunge it in completely, the locks clicks and someone slowly opens the door. As soon as they see me, their hands close around mine, pulling the scissors away from me. I start screaming and kicking. "No! Stop! You have to let me—"

The person pushes me down to the floor and pins me there. I suddenly realize it's Louis, but I don't even care. "Corinne, I am not letting you do this! You've worked too hard for too long to throw it all away."

I stare at him in disgust. "You have no _idea_ what it's like to lose someone this way, Louis. He was all I had!"

"I lost both my parents. They were murdered, Corinne. Philippe tried to kill me. You were banished! The councilmen whipped me. You think I don't know how it feels? You think—you think I don't know loss?"

A faint twinge of pain crawls across my chest from the wound I gave myself. The blood must have become visible because Louis gasps and sits me up, grabbing a handkerchief out of his pocket. He presses it to me and gives a stern look. "If I hear of you hurting yourself again, things aren't going to be pretty. Understood?"

I nod. "I'm sorry, Louis. I just… it hurts so much."

He stares at me, and I meet his eyes. I had noticed over the past couple of days life has filled his them again, and it made me so happy. He's his own person, not having to be controlled and beaten.

Louis runs a hand down my arm. "I know, but… you—you have to remember what James said to you. Enjoy life. That means find happiness and—and learn to love again."

I set my forehead on his shoulder, breathing in his scent—evergreen forest with a hint of mint, I remember. Slowly, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he pulls me into his lap. We just sit there holding each other until it's finally time.

* * *

Gasps sound from the crowd as I step into view. I have a hood over my head, disguising who I am.

A long line of people on both of my sides stare intently at me. The people of Paris have gathered to watch this. They knew me, and they knew James. He had been a hero to them, had been righteous and kind, and now they've come to watch him be buried, and… have justice done.

Louis appears beside me, as do Viveca, Aramina, and Renée, all three dressed in the same hood as mine. We walk down the middle of the crowd. No one dares to speak. As we near the end, a group appears at the end of the crowd, cuffed and gagged with Cobras on either side of them. A slight smirk appears on my face.

We stop in front of them and turn to face the crowd. All at once, Viveca, Aramina, Renée, and I take off our hoods, and the crowd gasps. Not only have they not seen Viveca for quite some time, Renée—whom everyone thought dead—stands, alive and well. And there's me.

For the first time in four months, I am perfectly, unmistakably, blond.

Murmurs erupt through the crowd, and then it turns to yelling.

"Where have you been?!"

"How could you have left us for so long?!"

"She's back!"

"She's come to save us!"

Looking over at Louis, I see him smiling. He silences the crowd, and I say, "Hi, everyone. It's… it's been a long time."

"You think?!"

I smile. "Well, I'm… I'm back now, and… I'm ready to take back this city. These men"—I gesture to the group tied-up next to me—"have destroyed this city. It wasn't your king, I can assure you of that. I'm here to deliver their official punishment by order of the king."

More murmurs run through the crowd, but I ignore them and step up to the men that will be convicted. I stare each one of them down—most of them are the council, but some are from other groups that have been caught recently. "You've tried my patience, all of you. I could kill you all right here, right now if I wanted to. I am given every bit of power to make this as miserable as possible. But… I am not a monster, unlike every last one of you. Now, I have thought long and hard about this, and it is unlikely that I will change my mind, but begging wouldn't hurt." I smirk, unsheathing the sword at my waist. The men's eyes widen in fear.

"Former councilmen! This is your sentence: life in prison." I see them all loose a breath, most likely thinking that I would've killed them. "Take them away," I say to the guards next to me. After them doing so, I turn to the second-to-last man kneeling before me. "Captain Baudin… you have caused me so much pain, and misery, and the overwhelming desire to kill you." I glance out at the crowd and see Lady Eleanor and Caroline and Catherine shedding tears, anticipating their husband and father's death.

I press my sword gently to his throat. "And you have no idea how much I want to."

"Just do it," he whispers. I had left him ungagged for reasons not even I can explain. "Do it, but don't make my family watch."

I smirk and raise my sword high in the air. Lady Eleanor and her children wail as I bring down my sword. Baudin's rope falls to the ground. "I want to kill you, Charles Baudin. I want to do it so badly. But you have lost two sons and a daughter, and I think that is punishment enough. Go with your family and cherish them to your last breath before I change my mind."

He stares up at me, and I see the gratefulness filling his eyes. Slowly, he reaches up and grabs my hand, pressing a kiss on my knuckles. "Thank you."

"Go."

He does so without a second to waste, grabbing his family and dragging them away.

Finally, I turn to the last person on the line, his head covered in a sack. I grab it and pull it off. Blue eyes stare up at me—cold and unfeeling—while his lips are spread into a vile smirk. His hands hold his stomach, blood dripping slowly down his hands.

"If it isn't little Corinne D'Artagnan."

I slap Warner across the face in a fit of rage. Louis had made the doctors save Warner, which I had loathed for many days, but I now know that that was the first right decision he's made in a long time. Now I have time to make regret ever being born.

"Don't say my name as if I'm some worthless piece of trash like you," I growl as he holds his face. No one stops me as I shove him to the ground, standing over him. No one stops me as I kick him in the gut, causing him to cry out in pain from the unhealed gunshot wound I had given him.

"You little bitch!" he shrieks.

"Well, that's more like it. Do you have anything else to say before I give you your sentence?" A mouthful of curses fall out of his mouth when I kick him in the stomach again. "No? Well, okay."

"Just kill me," he growls from the ground.

I force him back onto his knees. "You are much too good to be killed, my dear. I have something much more fun." Finally, I say the one thing that I have wanted to say to him from the moment James died:

"I, Corinne D'Artagnan, Musketeer of the Guard, former fiancée of James Baudin, banish you from Paris."

The crowd murmurs.

And Warner looks at me with wide eyes.

Each moment passes in a blur.

Each heartbeat.

Each breath.

He just stares at me.

And I stare back.

"You… will never… forget me, him, or anyone else you've harmed. I want you to look and see us every single time you open your eyes." I grab his hand and slam a sharpened stamp down on his palm. He screams in pain. When I release him, I leave a perfect design of the Musketeer of the Guard's emblem, blood streaming down his arm.

"You're insane!" he shrieks.

"I am long past insanity."

* * *

They take him away. They throw him out of Paris. They don't even give him until dawn. He doesn't deserve it… and neither did I, I suppose.

After the whole fiasco with Warner, I walk to the cemetery alone. As I walk, I feel raindrops fall against my skin. Water drips down my face, ruining the makeup Viveca had earlier applied. Eventually I don't even notice that it pours. I don't notice the water pulling my hair apart, the makeup smearing down my face, the mud caking on the skirts of my dress. All of it goes blank, except for the steady beating rhythm of the rain in my ears.

My heart still hurts, but not because of the wound I had given myself earlier today. It's trivial compared to this. I still can't even fully comprehend it. _He's gone._ They're all gone. I'll never be able to see them again, and no one understands. No one gets how I feel. They may think they do, but they don't understand what it's like _knowing_ you're responsible for all of their deaths. But as much as I want to end my life, I can't. Not anymore.

The rain still pours, but my tears don't. It's as if I've used up all of them, which I definitely hope I have. I am so sick of crying. I feel the mud squish below my feet, each step making me sink into the ground. I start to shiver from the rain, but that doesn't make sense because it's July.

Four months. I had known him for four months. And in those four months, we had begun to develop something that I never thought I'd feel again: love. And not just love. True love. I hadn't thought it existed for so long. I didn't think James and I would find anything close to it. But now I… I understand what it is.

He'd given me everything—his life, his secrets, his love. He let me cope, he let me cry, he let me scream. He did anything and everything for me, even when I was at my worst. He understood, and he listened. And I… realizing it now, I was anything less than a good lover or friend, but that's the thing. He still loved me—completely, wholeheartedly loved me—through that. And so did I. I may not have realized it at the time, but I loved him more than I can let words describe.

And now he's gone… because of me.

It's true. I blame myself for all these deaths. And what's also true is that it is my fault. If not for me, they'd all be alive. I keep trying to tell myself that that's not the case, but no matter how much I lie, it is my fault.

I hear footsteps behind me, but I don't turn to see who it is. A part of me already knows.

"You're wet," he says, trailing a bit behind me.

I faint smile tugs at my lips. "Why, thank you for stating the obvious, Louis."

He removes his cloak and drapes it across my shoulder. "You forgot yours at—"

"Please don't remind me," I interrupt. "It's not something I'm proud of."

He thins his lips and slowly lets out a breath. "I know, but… it was something that had to be done. You know that."

"I know, but it's still something I'm not proud of. I don't want to be known as the girl who banished the man who killed her fiancée just to spite him. Killing him would have been more merciful. Trust me, I know."

I flicker of hurt flashes across Louis's eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up a hand. "No, I… don't do that around me. I deserve to remember what I did."

I take his hand. "Louis, no. You have been through so much—more than me probably—these past years. It's not fair for it to be thrown in your face time and time again."

"No, Corinne, please. Stop denying that you still hate me. Hate me, please. It's the least I deserve. If I had been stronger I could have stopped those criminals from taking over everything, and then James wouldn't have—"

My hand connects with his cheek. He gasps and sets his palm on it. "Louis," I say, "don't blame yourself for what happened. It's not your fault, and you know it."

A hint of a smile plays on his lips. "A simple shut up would have sufficed."

"No, it wouldn't have."

We're silent for a few long moments as we walk, the rain still pouring down. I can tell he wants to say something by the way he keeps opening his mouth and then stopping.

"Corinne…" he begins.

I stop walking, and so does he. "Yes?"

"Are you… are you staying… in Paris?" he asks.

I blink in surprise. He couldn't possibly know, could he? "I…" I slowly start phrasing how I'm going to explain this. "Louis, this has been my home for… a million years. It's where I lived my dream. It's where I discovered that food is not just a thing that makes you live but can be an art form. It's where I first fell in love." His eyes glance over to the graveyard, and I know that he thinks it's James I'm talking about. I squeeze his hand to force him to look at me. "I love this place more than I can explain. But…" I trail off.

"But what?"

"But I can't stay here anymore."

"What?!" he shouts. "You-you can't leave! I-I just got you back!"

I shake my head. "Louis, as long as I'm here bad things will happen. It's better if I just stay away. I might come back someday, but… I just need to go. I need to get a fresh start with new people that have no idea who I am."

"Is it me? Do I make you uncomfortable being here?"

"No! No, no, Louis. It's not you. Well, it is, but it's not just you. It's everyone. It's the city. It's-it's James. I can't be here without him."

He's silent for a long moment before saying, "You really loved him, didn't you?"

I let out a quiet laugh. "Yes, yes I did."

"And… do you think you could ever love me again?"

I purse my lips, my mind wandering about the subject slowly. Could I love him again? Could I forget about James and everything that's happened? I stare intently at him, studying his eyes. Could I love him again?

Slowly, I let my hands twist into a knot in his hair and press my lips against his. Almost as quickly as I do this, though, I let him go. "I will always love you, Louis," I whisper. "But not in the same way I loved James."

He shows no emotion at my words but only nods, as if completely accepting this.

* * *

The funeral is short. We lay flowers over his black casket. We pray that he will reach the kingdom above. And then they lower him into the ground. As I stand there silently, my face completely expressionless, I see none other than Charles Baudin standing at the edge of the graveyard. I weave myself through the crowd in his direction, but he makes no inclination to acknowledge me as I appear in his line of sight.

"It was risky for you to come here," I say. No reply. "Where are your wife and children?"

"At an inn," he says.

"What are you doing here?"

Baudin scowls at me. "He's _my_ son. I have a right to be at his funeral."

"You wanted to imprison him."

"I didn't want him dead!" he shouts. "He was all of Andrew I had left! He was my last son, and now he's gone because of you!"

Tears start to envelop in my eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen as much as you did. I loved him, too."

"He's my _son._ "

"And you're his father! You're the one who helped the criminals rise to power. You're the one that let Warner get him! My fault it may be, but were it not for you, he might still be alive!"

Baudin lets out a shaky breath and turns away from me. "I-I must be going now."

"Damn coward," I growl.

He says nothing and just stalks away.

* * *

I stand in the stable wearing a black riding suit and a bag at my hips. Viveca, Aramina, and Renée hug me, kissing me on the cheek as they go.

"Stay safe," they all murmur.

I nod. "Thank you. I'll write to you. I promise."

They all nod and glance at the person beside me. "We'll give you two some privacy," Viveca says. They all walk out the door, and I can practically guarantee they're eavesdropping on us.

Louis faces me and takes my hand. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"I promise."

"Promise me you'll return someday."

I smile. "That I cannot promise."

He laughs. "Then promise me something else." I agree with a laugh. "Promise to never forget what's happened here. Like it or not, terrible things happened to you, and you have to try to stop doing that. Embrace what's happened. Mourn, but do embrace it."

I stare at him for a long moment before saying, "Fine, but only if you do the same." He nods. I reach into my bag and take out the stamp I used on Warner. It's been cleaned, the blood replaced with pristine, sharp metal. I press it down into my palm and gasp in pain. I grab Louis's hand and do the same to him. Blood trickles down our palms.

"God, that stings," he hisses.

I laugh and grab his hand, rubbing my blood against his own. "Now when we look down at the Musketeer's Crest scar on our palms, we'll always remember what's happened, and how we can never run from it."

"I love you," he says, his voice deep and raspy.

"I love you, too," I whisper before pressing my lips against his cheek. "Always remember that."

I mount my horse and am about to leave, but I gasp as I remember something. I run into the palace, down the stairs, and into one of the passageways. I skid to a stop when I arrive there. I enter the room as soon as the combination is put in.

The safe is exactly the same as I left it, the papers I had even lying on the ground. Slowly, I kneel down to grab it. As I stand up again, a tall figure appears in front of me, his hair so incredibly black. But it's not James, I realize, as his eyes are a deep brown.

It takes me a mere second to identify him.

" _Andrew,_ " I whisper.

He smiles—I've never seen one so genuine in all my life— and holds out a hand. "Come with me."

I look down at the paper in my hands and drop it to the floor. I stare into his alluring face again and set my hand into his. Flesh, I realize. It feels like flesh.

He leads me into darkness, where, I do not know, but, all the same, it's his eyes I find comfort in.

 _A dream. It must be a dream. It has to be a dream. There's no other explanation._

 _But why do I feel so awake?_

* * *

 **(A/N: And here it is! I have presented you with the last chapter of _After All These Years_! Gosh, I'm, like, dying right now. I can't believe it it's finished. Ugh. I just… AND DAT END, THO! OMG! That surprised me as much as it may have surprised you. I did not see that coming, and I'm the author. Gosh. It's over. I don't… I don't even know what to say, except THANK YOU! Thank you everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, and just read! I never believed that I could get so many readers reading one story. It's amazing. _You're_ amazing.**

 **And also, thank you everyone who wished me luck on NaNoWriMo! It ends on Monday, and I have only a little over 2,500 words left! I really think I'm going to win it this year! Thank you! I never could have done it without your support and comments on my writing. It's made me into a much better writer than I was when I started writing fics, so thank you, all of you!**

 **And now, our last replies:**

 **maryam969: Well, you're not the only one with that opinion. ;) Thanks so much for all your reviews!**

 **sophhascoconuts: Well, thank you so much! That is so nice of you to say! Thanks for so many awesome reviews!**

 **Despicable Margo: Come on. You can't honestly believe Louis would act like that selfish bitch who's glad James is dead, can you? I mean, he didn't like the guy, but he knew Corinne loved him, and I think he would have allowed her to mourn. Well, I didn't spend hours sobbing, but I did cry a bit while reading it again. I mostly cry with super unexpected deaths, but I knew what would happen to James by maybe the fifth or sixth chapter, so it wasn't that big of a surprise for me. You guys on the other hand… bet you didn't see that on coming, huh? I have to admit, I'm an angst writer. I like angst, I cherish angst, and I think writing it is hella a lotta fun. ;) So weird considering I'm not like that IRL. Thanks for so many amazing reviews!**

 **Musketeer Corrine: Well, I will express my deepest gratitude that you cried like that for my Puppy Kitten. I'm glad you did. I tried to make it as emotional as possible for everyone, but i'm not always sure if I succeeded on that note, so I thank you for your feedback. Oh, yeah, and I'm sorry for making you cry, but not really that much. Lol. Hey, you don't have to accept his death. There are a lot of fanfics where I don't accept an MC's death, so you are absolutely allowed to change it in your head. ;) Thanks for so many reviews! They were all awesome to read.**

 **Decembra1998: Hey, don't forget Charlotte/Georgia! She was a pretty significant character! Lol, anyway. It just had to happen. Trish actually wasn't supposed to die. I just added her in because I wanted to kill one more person off, so… yeah. I never even thought about killing Viveca. Her death would've been too trivial because we only just saw her again, and I wanted the musketeers to be united again! I actually considered it all to end in a dream. Her banishment, James, everything. She would wake up next to her husband, Louis, and wonder what the eff just happened, and then would just lay back down and shake it off. I had several different endings in mind before I decided on one, but this seemed like this best way to go, you know? And as for Emily's death, well, that one made me really sad, but I had to kill her off because it seemed like that right thing to do. Wait, that seems a bit like an oxymoron. Haha. Thanks for all your incredible reviews! I loved them so much!**

 **Lasting Violet: Well, it's all kinda hard to explain. You see, I had searched through many different options in my head. Before Warner existed in this form, the evil form, he was never supposed to show up as a main character, but I needed a villain, and I didn't want Capt. Baudin to be that villain. It seemed too predictable, too cliché, so I came up with what used to be Oscar became Warner. I knew from the start that Warner would be beyond evil, so I had to make him such. He wouldn't be beneath killing, and I need everything to be as realistic as possible, so I picked some people to kill. James was one of those people. It's not that I wanted any of you to sob over him or anything, but it felt like the most meaningful for Corinne. Everything they worked for to be together was ruined, all pointless. _That's_ why I killed him. I needed Corinne to feel broken. It's terrible, I know, but it's something that I had to do. Thanks for so many awesome reviews!**

 **march92: Thank you! Ugh, the dreaded Pony Tale sequel… Lol. Actually I'm quite looking forward to writing that because I think it'll be great, but when inspiration doesn't come for things, I can't publish anything I write because that'll only mean it'll end up unfinished. Thanks for reviewing! ;)**

 **Paris4eva: Heh, heh. Sorry. Kinda. And thanks for so many amazing reviews!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Not _everyone_. Corinne's still alive. And Louis. And, well, the other girls. So… that's about it. And it can't be everyone you love. Surely you have people at home you love. Thanks for so many amazing reviews, Geeky! ;)**

 **Lyssita Lennon: Well, I guess it was a little mean, which is weird because I'm not a mean person. Most of the time. Come on. The moment Philippe stepped foot in this story you had to know he was gonna die. I didn't get to put it in here, but I actually was going to put a backstory or something of that sort in here for Oscar, but I had no idea how to approach it, so it just got deleted. I may follow it up with a oneshot sometime soon, though. I expected no less of you to love that chapter. ;) That's a pretty good idea, actually, but I never intended for Corinne and Louis to end up having a son at the end of this. A daughter, maybe. But not a son. Gosh, thanks for so many great reviews! They were all super amazing!**

 **Guys, hands-down, you're absolutely incredible. Thank you so, so, so, so much! I never expected this to get as popular as it did. And also, thank you everybody for not sending me any death threats. That really great of you guys.**

 **Not for the last time, I bid you adieu,**

 **Weatherbug02**

 **P.S. Ha. That rhymed.)**


	23. Authors' Note

A sequel for this story will be up June 28th, 2016! Stay tuned!


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